Follow the Evidence San Francisco
by kailynray
Summary: Sequel to Follow the Evidence. Grissom and Sidle met at a Forensics Academy a few months ago. Grissom accepts a summer teaching position in San Francisco so they can spend more time together. What happens? GSR, of course.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is a continuation of the original fanfiction, "Follow the Evidence." There will be references back to things that ocurred in that story.**

**I look forward to hearing your reaction to my story.**

**Thank you!!**

**Follow the Evidence – San Francisco**

**Chapter 1:**

It was Saturday afternoon. Grissom had returned that morning from a night shift investigation out by Lake Mead. A few hours of sleep, and an hour of play with the sensual Sara Sidle, and he was awake and ready for the day.

"What would you like to do today?" Gil asked as they relaxed together in bed.

Sara smiled, "How about more of what we just did?"

"That's tempting!" he laughed, then added, "I was thinking, maybe we could head out to California today. We could take our time, maybe go through Los Angeles and then head up the coast. I could show you where I grew up. If we hurry, we should be able to find a room overlooking the coast tonight."

"I'm afraid to return to San Francisco. I know I can be a good CSI, but will I be able to convince the department after leaving a crime scene like that? Maybe making the trip fun will take my mind off of it."

"I can make a reservation for an early morning flight to Las Vegas, so I'll be back in time for court."

Sara thought for a minute, and then decided, "Let's leave right away…."

They showered and dressed, resisting the temptations that assailed them by simply being near one another. Grissom packed a suit for court in addition to his casual clothes. He packed light so that he would only have carryon items for his flight. Sara packed the clothes that she had purchased in Las Vegas, as well as her CSI uniform. Grissom called his travel agent, and booked a flight from San Francisco to Las Vegas, that would allow him to be in court by ten on Monday morning. Within an hour they were ready to leave. They packed Sara's car, buckling Bert, a stuffed bear that resembled Grissom, into the back seat. Gil removed a file and then placed his briefcase in the backseat as well.

Grissom, being familiar with the Las Vegas roads and traffic, drove for the first stage of the trip. They swung through a fast food restaurant, ordered some lunch and then headed out of town. Grissom merged onto I-15 heading south towards California. Driving through the relentless desert, Sara read aloud from the Sullivan file, reviewing the basics of the case for Grissom.

"Even with all I have lived through, I am appalled by how cruel parents can be to their own children," Sara commented after reading the first few lines.

"This was one of the most sickening cases I have worked," Grissom confessed, "The officers at the scene were vomiting from seeing the child. Catherine and I both fought to keep control; unfortunately, some of the blood evidence was compromised by the DNA in our tears. I was so furious at the cruelty against a toddler that I dented the hood of the SUV with my fist."

Sara shook her head, "I don't think I could have processed the scene."

"Once the coroner removed the little girl's body, it became easier, but I will never forget the horror of her injuries."

"After what happened this week, my biggest fear is that I won't be able to face such scenes without shutting down and running away," Sara confided.

"Sara, I can't promise that won't happen. One of the challenges that we face as CSIs is overcoming our instinctive emotional responses to the viciousness of the crimes that we investigate. People accuse me of not having any emotions, but that's not true, particularly when it is a crime against a child. We are supposed to protect and care for our children, not torture them. When I see a child hurt, it gets under my skin, and it takes all that I have not to lose my temper. Knowing that I respond in that way helps me to deal with the situation. Perhaps understanding your past and recognizing what triggers your fear will help you to control it?"

"I hope that is true. I don't think my supervisor and co-workers care much about why I react to certain scenes. They assume all females are weak and incapable. Now that they'll know my history, they will probably assign all of the domestic violence cases to me, just to force me to quit."

"It's hard to believe they would be that insensitive, but from what you've experienced in the past I am afraid you might be right."

Grissom drove in silence for awhile. 'If only she would stay in Las Vegas,' he thought to himself, 'I could steer her clear of such scenes, at least until she was ready to face them.' The lab policy against romantic relationships crossed his mind, as well as Ecklie's reaction to working with Grissom in general. Ecklie would find a way of making their lives miserable – maybe they could work out a swap with San Francisco, Sara for Ecklie – he'd fit in well up there.

Sara stared out the window, watching with unfocused eyes as they passed mile after mile of scrub brush and cactus. 'When will the screaming start? No ghosts for the last two days, but last week? I never want to hear them like that again! I need to do this. I need to solve crimes and speak for the victims, but will it ever be safe for me emotionally? Can my sanity survive the constant reminders?' She glanced over at Grissom, his eyes were intent on the road, his mind miles away. She reached over and rested her hand on his leg. Smiling, he covered her hand with his, caressing it as he drove.

"Sara?" Grissom asked, "I don't know how to ask this… I know a bit of your story, but there is still so much I don't understand. I assumed when we first met that your motives for being a CSI were similar to my own – the need to find the truth and tell the victim's story… But our lives have been so different. If the crime scenes are so painful for you…"

"Then why do I want to be a criminalist?" Sara finished his question.

"Yes, why put yourself in such a potentially gruesome world?"

"When I haven't been distracted by a certain pair of glorious blue eyes, that's all I've been thinking about this week. Why do I do this to myself? Isn't it bad enough to live with violence as a child without subjecting myself to the results of it daily? I'm not sure I have a good answer." Sara stopped talking, but Gil could sense her struggle to find the right words and he waited in silence until she was ready to continue.

"No one stood up for me. My mom was too scared. My brother ran away as soon as he was old enough. No one ever heard my voice, my cries. Each time I speak for a victim, I tell some of my own story as well. I'm not sure how to say this… I survived and yet… I've told you only part of the story, there is so much more that I am afraid to share – as much as I rely on you, I am mute. I only find my voice in speaking for others. Does that make sense?"

Gil nodded, but didn't say anything. He kept his personal life very private and he had nothing shameful to hide. She had done nothing wrong, she had been a child caught in a nightmare, but she must feel the embarrassment of her parent's crimes. If he were in her place?

"Sara?" he started, "Thank you for trusting me. I hope someday you will feel safe sharing the rest of your story, but I won't pressure you. I rarely tell anyone anything about my personal life, not even Jim. So it makes sense to me that you don't either. I sometimes see myself at crime scenes – what if I had made different choices? It's sobering to realize what we are all capable of given sufficient motivation. The victim's speak to me, they tell their story, but that make me see my own in a different light as well. I think what you have said makes sense."

"Gil, thank you for not judging me."

"I'm not in a place to judge, only to love." They drove in silence for a few minutes before Grissom spoke again, "Sara, I'm reluctant to share this, but I want you to understand me. I've never really cared what anyone thought before – let them wonder – but I want you to know the real me…"

Sara smiled, "I'd like that."

"Do you remember when they captured Jeffrey Dalmer? The media tore into his childhood, exposing his history of killing and dissecting animals. The psychologists and sociologists made the point that this was a sign of his mental illness."

"Yes, I remember, but what does that have to do with you?"

"When I was a child, people thought I was odd," he smiled, "I guess they still think that – but perhaps they had a reason. I never killed any animals, but I was fascinated by dissecting the carcasses that I found. I wanted to know why they died. As a teenager, as soon as I could convince them to hire me, I joined the coroner's office. You've seen me at work, I am driven to understand what has happened, to follow the evidence to find the answers, and until I do, nothing else seems to matter."

"I've seen that side of you – I saw it in your teaching and in your work at the lab. Why did you want me to know this?"

"If I understand correctly, you are motivated to find the truth for the victim's sake. And I am as well, but I also need to solve the scientific puzzle. And I might not be the best companion during the process. I guess I wanted to warn you."

"Well, if you'll let me work beside you, I don't think it will be a problem. We'll be obsessed together."

"There is nothing that I would like more."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

The rest of the drive was uneventful. Sara drove for awhile, passing through Barstow and continuing south towards Los Angeles. As she drove, Grissom reviewed the Sullivan case, asking for Sara's input on explaining his interpretations of the evidence in layman's terms. At Victorville, Grissom took over driving again, taking the Ontario freeway to I-10, and then I-10 towards Santa Monica. They reached the outskirts of Los Angeles at the tail end of rush hour. Traffic was heavy, but moving. It was dark by the time they reached Lincoln Blvd, and headed south towards Marina del Rey. Grissom found a hotel overlooking Santa Monica Bay; they dropped their stuff off in the room, and then drove to the Marina for dinner.

The dinner crowds had dissipated, but the sidewalks were filled with evening strollers. Grissom left the car with a valet and lead Sara into the restaurant. They were seated at a table on the outside patio, overlooking the water and the piers of sailboats and yachts. Giant umbrellas which served to shield the tables from the sun during the day were lit with small sparking lights for the evening diners.

"If they haven't changed bakers since my last trip, we should leave room for their chocolate cheesecake," Grissom suggested as they looked over the menus.

"Do you come here often?" Sara asked.

"No, my Mom moved to Las Vegas when she retired a few years ago, since it's just the two of us. I am here for conferences on occasion though."

"Just the two of you?" she asked.

"Yes, I was an only child and my father died when I was nine."

"Oh," she was surprised, "so you know what it is like to lose a parent."

Grissom set the menu down, and looked into Sara's eyes.

"He was always distant… He had his classes and research at the University. He didn't have much time for me, unless I went with him to work. I guess that's why I enjoy academic settings and experiments… I'd never really thought about that before. The only time I had his attention was when I was helping him with his work."

Sara nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"I remember when I was eight, I found a cat that had recently died in the alley behind our house. I performed a necropsy on it and discovered some plant leaves mixed in with the food in its stomach." Neither Sara nor Grissom noticed the quick grimace at the neighboring table. The couple motioned to the waiter and were reseated further away. Grissom continued without a break, "I borrowed some of my Dad's books to identify the species. I wanted to know if the cat had been poisoned. At first my Dad was angry, because I hadn't asked to use his books, but when he saw what I was using them for, he joined me in my search. We discovered that the cat was poisoned and contacted the animal protection authorities. That's the only time I remember him being proud of me."

The waiter took their orders and collected their menus. Moments later, he returned with their drinks.

"If you don't mind my asking, how did he die?" Sara asked.

"It was sudden. He was working with the plants in his research garden and he collapsed. He was much older than my mom, so they didn't think there was anything suspicious. There wasn't an autopsy. We've always assumed it was a heat stroke or a heart attack."

"Your mother never remarried?"  
"No. She focused her attention on her art gallery and on me. Most people would have been worried about a child who enjoyed dissecting dead creatures, but somehow Mom understood me. She always made sure I had what I needed – surgical equipment, research texts, mentors from the university."

"That sounds strangely wonderful. I would like to meet your Mom someday, I mean, if you'd like for me to," Sara smiled awkwardly. She then continued, "When I was in high school there was one teacher who supported my interest in science. She helped me compete in competitions, even when she had to donate the entry fees out of her own pocket. When I returned to San Francisco, I tried to pay her back, but she wouldn't accept it. She said that my graduation from Harvard was enough repayment."

The waiter delivered their food, and refilled their drinks. Grissom talked about Venice beach, his Mom's art gallery, attending UCLA, spending time exploring the various research facilities in the region, finally choosing to pursue forensic entomology. Sara shared more about her time studying physics at Harvard and computer science and engineering at UC, Berkeley.

"With all of your background in physics and engineering, why did you become a coroner?" Grissom asked.

"While at Berkeley, I took an elective in forensics from the law school. It intrigued me. I had always felt out of place in school – I succeeded academically, but no one really understood me. I wasn't sure I wanted to work with the living – too many emotional complications – but I thought perhaps by studying the dead I could find some answers for my own life. I found a licensure program in forensic medicine that I could complete concurrently with my masters."

Grissom reached across the table to hold Sara's hand, "I guess we have a lot in common. Our lives have been lead in isolation from others, surrounded by an unnatural amount of death, and yet we both have been drawn to helping others on the worst days of their lives. Who would have thought that I could meet someone like you by chance?"

The waiter came to take their plates and offer them dessert. They ordered a chocolate cheesecake to share…

"That was delicious! But I may need to walk to San Francisco to burn off all of the calories," Sara commented.

"Sara, you of all people do not need to worry about calories! If you want some additional exercise though, I could make a suggestion," Grissom's eyes danced.

"Gil, don't we need to make an early start in the morning?"

"We've been sitting all day… I think we'd sleep better after some exercise."

"Well, if you insist," Sara smiled.

"I do."

He paid the bill and tip and then guided Sara out of the restaurant. The valet brought the car, and they returned to the hotel. Their room was on the top floor, overlooking Santa Monica Bay. Sara walked to the window to enjoy the view. The light of the moon glinted off the gentle waves easing to and from the shore. Gil stood at the window behind Sara, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a warm embrace. He moved her long hair aside, caressed her neck with his lips.

"Sara, don't you feel a bit overdressed?" he breathed into her ear. He moved his hands to her waist, found the bottom of her blouse, and lifted it off over her head. She turned to face him, her arms still raised. He backed her against the thick plate glass window, pinning her arms above her head with his hands. He kissed her passionately, hungrily on the mouth. He explored her throat and neck, kissing her chest, probing with his tongue under the top edges of her bra. "Hmmm, still overdressed…" he released her arms so that he could unfasten her bra, dropping it to the floor. She lowered her arms, taking his head in her hands, guiding his mouth to her breasts. Her knees wobbled as he teased her nipple with his tongue and teeth.

"Gil," she gasp, "the bed…" He returned his mouth to hers, using his hands to remove his shirt and to unfasten both of their pants allowing them fall to the floor. She wrapped her legs around him, letting him carry her back to the bed. Lying down, he rolled on top of her, once again holding her arms above her head so that he could entice her body without distraction. He removed the remainder of their clothing while he worked his way down her torso with his lips and tongue.

"Please…" Sara begged when she could wait no longer. He moved his hands to the bed on either side of her waist, kissing her passionately on the mouth as he entered, using his hands to ease the pressure of the weight of his chest against hers. They moved as one, joined in the excitement of their love for one another. Climaxing within moments of each other, they collapsed still entwined.

"Now we can sleep," he whispered as he held her in his arms.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

_Grissom photographed the scene from every angle, the blood pool on the floor, the blood splatter on the walls, the blood impressions on the ceiling. Careful not to step in the any evidence, he examined the room inch by inch. There were beer bottles, opened and empty strewn about the room. One appeared discolored. He tested it for blood – positive for human blood. He bagged the stained bottle, marking the bag with identifying information. Somewhere in the back of the house a phone began ringing._

"Gil, wake-up," Sara picked up the phone and thanked the front desk for the call. Grissom groaned as he began to stir.

"What time is it?" he asked hoarsely, still not opening his eyes.

"Seven o'clock. I think I suggested we get to bed earlier last night…" Sara teased. Grissom smiled and turned to face her, half-opening his eyes.

"We did go to bed early…just not to sleep." With a bit more prodding Sara was able to convince Grissom to wake-up.

"I thought you wanted to show me your hometown?" Sara reminded, "We won't have time for much."

They showered and dressed, packed their belongings and checked out. They grabbed a quick breakfast at the hotel buffet, then loaded the car and headed north.

"I'd like to show you Venice Beach – I spent a lot of time there as a teenager, helping my Mom out at her Gallery. It's changed a lot since the 60's and 70's, but it still has that off-beat social dynamic…"

Sara smiled, "So you grew up around rebels?"

"Not exactly, there were a lot of artists and poets…. And tourists…"

Even on an early Sunday morning traffic was heavy. It was after nine o'clock when they found a place to park. They walked down the boardwalk, stopping occasionally to look in one of the beachfront stores. After about twenty minutes, they came to an Art Gallery.

"This is the Gallery that my Mom started back in the 50's…. She sold it when she retired and moved to Vegas." Grissom held the door for Sara and they went inside. The walls were covered with framed paintings, from classic landscapes and seascapes to impressionistic scenes and contemporary geometrics. The floor held racks of prints and posters. Grissom shared about many of the paintings, the artists, the settings and their histories. As they talked an elderly gentleman emerged from behind the cash register.

"Gilbert Grissom? Is that you? As I live and breathe, I never thought I'd see you back here…." Grissom looked up, recognizing the voice.

Smiling, Grissom held out his hand, "Uncle Carl? I didn't know you would be here."

"I like to help out around the Gallery on weekends. My son Paul bought the place a few years ago. He just couldn't stand to see it being run by strangers." They talked for a few moments about family and friends. Carl noticed Sara standing beside Grissom. 'Well, he always did attract the pretty ones,' he thought to himself, 'Even if he didn't know what to do about it…'

Carl smiled towards Sara, "And who might this beautiful young woman be?" Grissom blushed, realizing that once again his social skills had failed him.

"Uncle Carl, this is Sara Sidle my, um, a special friend of mine. Sara, this is Carl Jackson, one of my Mom's closest friends. After Dad died, he and his wife helped keep me out of trouble."

Carl laughed, "It wasn't too difficult, Gil, when you weren't reading, you were usually hiding in the back running some sort of experiment. Sara, did he tell you about the time he nearly blew this place up?"

Sara looked up at Grissom speculatively, "No, he hasn't shared that story yet, though I don't find it too hard to believe!" Sara smiled as Gil blushed again.

"I didn't blow anything up," Grissom denied, "I just miscalculated how much heat would be generated. I think the only damage was a charred workbench…" he finished softly.

Carl smiled, "Well, it sure scared your Mom, seeing all of that smoke billowing out of the backroom."

Grissom grinned, "I must admit, I'd never seen her sign that fast before! I was sure she'd ban me from the store…"

"Sara, I think I may have some photos in the back that might interest you. Gil can show you around the store while I find them."

Gil showed Sara some of his favorite artists. Their works showed a variety of natural settings from formal gardens to rustic wilderness. All of them beautifully rendered. Sara's puzzled expression caught Gil's eye.

"What? No close-ups of insects or cadavers?" she teased. Gil turned to her, drawing her into a hug.

"I like things other than bugs and bodies…" Gil said before kissing her, "Though yours I don't seem to get enough of…" he whispered.

Carl cleared his throat as he crossed the room, "None of that in here, Gilbert," he teased. "Remember we run a family establishment."

"Sorry, sir," Gil replied, letting go of Sara. Sara grinned at Grissom's boyish response to the older man's authority.

Carl smiled, "Sara, don't let him get away with any nonsense. His mother raised him to behave himself." Sara's grin widened into a smile.

"I'm afraid I may be corrupting him then…" she confessed, "But he doesn't seem to mind." Gil put his hands in his pockets and studied the floor, causing them to laugh. When he looked up, Sara saw light dance from his eyes, belying his failure to laugh with them. She took his hands and pulled him back into a hug.

"Gilbert Grissom, what am I going to do with you?" she asked, gazing into his eyes.

"Anything you like," Gil breathed as he kissed her.

Carl cleared his throat again, "Special friends, eh? In my generation we had another name for it."

"Sorry," Gil apologized, still holding Sara in his arms, swimming in her eyes.

"I found some photos of Gil as a boy, if anyone is interested," Carl offered.

Sara broke the spell and looked over at the photos being held out. "Oh! I'd love to see those!" Grissom sighed, realizing that he'd lost her to Carl.

Carl showed her a black and white photo of a toddler in short pants, his legs half buried as he played in sand. She studied the boy's face, the curly hair, the bright eyes, the crooked grin, and then looked up at Grissom.

"You've gotten bigger, but you haven't changed much have you?" Grissom returned her smile with a grin. She turned back to the photos – this time seeing a young boy standing on a chair looking through a microscope in a laboratory. There was a man with wavy dark hair standing behind the boy. He had his arm draped around the boy's shoulders, his eyes intent on the slide at the base of the microscope.

Sara sensed Grissom's body shift. Glancing over, she saw him rubbing his eyes as he stared at the picture.

"That's you and your father, isn't it?" Sara asked. Grissom nodded.

"About a year or so before he died."

The next photo, the first in color, was of a small group of teenagers sitting on blankets on the beach. There were three boys and four girls. Two of the girls were paired with two of the boys. The other two girls were sitting on either side of the third boy. One of the girls seemed more interested in Gil's curly dark hair and blue eyes than the camera.

"The couple on the far left is my son Paul and his first girlfriend," Carl explained, "They got married in college and have grown kids of their own now."

Sara commented to Carl, "Doesn't it seem a bit greedy for Gil to have two girls when the other boys only have one?" Carl laughed.

"Yes, but if you notice, while the other boys notice the attention, Gil's oblivious to it. He always was…until now, it seems. "

"I figured it out in college, if you'll recall," Gil defended himself, "And I wasn't oblivious in high school, I, um, just didn't know which one was more interesting that day."

"Oh, so you strung both of them along? I'll have to keep that in mind," Sara observed.

"That's not what I meant… I've never cheated on anyone, and I don't plan on starting now… I… I just wasn't as socially inept as everyone seemed to think."

Sara conceded, "No, those gorgeous blue eyes of yours have stolen many hearts I imagine."

The final photo showed Gil standing next to his mother in front of the Art Gallery. Sara recognized her from the photos she had seen at Grissom's house. He still looked like a young teenager, but he was wearing a UCLA shirt.

"I remember that day," Grissom shared, "I was helping Mom during the summer break. Paul came over to tell me about his plans for proposing… He started snapping photos of everyone so that he'd have reminders of his 'single days'."

"His proposal must have been accepted?" Sara asked.

Carl and Gil looked at each other and chuckled. Gil explained, "After all of that, he chickened out. It took him a year to finally have the courage to ask her!"

Carl finished, "But she did say yes – they celebrated their 20th anniversary last week."

Grissom checked his watch, it was after eleven. They would have to hurry to finish their trip at a reasonable hour.

"Uncle Carl, it's been great seeing you again, but we need to get back on the road," Grissom said.

"Where are you headed?" Carl asked.

Sara replied, "I…We need to be in San Francisco tonight."

"Are you still working in Las Vegas, Gil?"

"Yes, I'm the lead CSI of the night shift now…"

"Do you work there too, Sara?" Carl asked.

"No, I'm working for the San Francisco Crime Lab."

Carl glanced at the too of them, "Oh, I had assumed that you were dating – but you live in different towns…"

"I'll be teaching in San Francisco this summer," Gil commented, "And, we are dating, I think."

"You think? My boy, isn't that something you should know?"

"It's complicated."

"The looks you two keep giving each other don't seem complicated at all," Carl shook his head, "I guess you haven't changed as much as I thought. Well, it's been good seeing you Gil. Don't be a stranger this summer; San Francisco isn't that far away. And Sara, it's been a pleasure meeting you. Gilbert's a good man, but he will try your patience at times. I wish you both the best."

"It's been wonderful meeting you too, sir. Perhaps Gil and I can visit you again in a few weeks? I'd love to hear more of your stories."

They exchanged their goodbyes. Gil and Carl shook each other's hands. Sara gave Carl a hug and a smile.

They walked back to the car and headed north along the Pacific Coast Highway.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

They drove along the coast steep hillsides and cliffs on the right and beaches and ocean on the left. Houses and businesses were perched on the steep slopes above them.

"Gil, I know you enjoy the desert, but there is nothing quite like seeing the ocean break on the sand."

Grissom nodded, and then replied, "Actually, I don't particularly enjoy the desert – always too hot in the summer and the temperature swings from day to night are hard."

"Then why do you stay in Vegas?" she asked.

"The town never sleeps. There is an energy there that I haven't found anywhere else. And business is always good…."

Sara grinned, "Crime does have a certain unique flare in Vegas. Sometimes I watch the news report wondering where they come up with their twisted ideas. Since its one of the best crime labs in the country I understand wanting to work there."

"It has its benefits, such as being asked to speak at conferences around the country," he smiled.

Sara frowned, "I hope you don't expect to fly about the country flirting with women now."

Grissom laughed, "I think I'll keep closer to home – or at least take home with me when I can." He reached over to hold her hand. They drove in a peaceful silence for a few miles.

"Gil, what exactly was going on back there at the art gallery?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, first, why did he keep making comments about you not understanding people, girls in particular when you were growing up? He seemed almost obsessed with that thought."

Grissom didn't answer. After a few moments, he asked a question of his own, "You said first…. What was you second question?"

"Um, maybe it's none of my business, but why did you say your Mom signed faster than you had ever seen her?"

Grissom drove in silence, not sure how to answer her questions. Both answers would point to genetic weaknesses in him – potential problems should they continue their relationship. He didn't want to scare her off. On the other hand, he didn't want to lie to her, now that she had asked.

Sensing his uncertainty Sara said, "That's okay. You don't have to answer me if you don't want. No pressure, okay?"

"No, if we're going to be in a relationship, you have a right to know. It's just that I rarely talk about such things. Jim is actually the only one in Vegas who knows about my mother." He took a few more minutes to form his thoughts, and then he began to share.

"There are so many clues in my behavior…. My friends complain because they don't understand how far I have come. Carl has known me my entire life. His son was my best friend – more like a brother. As a child, I didn't talk or play much with my peers. I'd talk to the adults in my life, and I spent a lot of time alone. My Mom didn't worry about it, but it bothered my father, so he took me to see one of his colleagues in the Psychology department."

Sara listened. She knew this sharing was difficult for him. She almost regretted asking the question, but she didn't want to interrupt him. She knew that this was important for her to understand.

He asked, "Have you heard of Asperger Syndrome?"

"It's a form of autism isn't it? I remember reading about it in Abnormal Psych in college," she answered.

"Yes, a type of high functioning autism – there's no mental deficits, just social, and sometimes physical ones. My father's friend thought I had Aspergers – a mild form of it. My father told everyone about it. He convinced all our family friends. It gave him an excuse to distance himself from me."

"They don't really know what causes Autism, do they?" Sara asked, surprised that this highly successful and articulate man would have such a diagnosis labeling him.

"Aspergers is suspected to be genetic, but it can be treated through socialization therapies. Those that have it tend to have limited social interactions with others. They are often focused on a very narrow range of subjects, they can talk excessively on that subject, without being aware whether or not those around them understand or respond. There speech can be said to lack the elements that portray emotions, the pitch and inflections can be limited or repetitive. Asperger himself labeled his students as 'little professors' because they acted like old academics even as children."

Sara thought about those traits, and about the man that she was quickly learning to love. She could see those characteristics in him, that obsessive passion about his work was what caught her eye in the first place. She glimpsed a bit of his soul – perhaps that was why he valued being accepted unconditionally?

"You said your father was convinced, but what do you think?"

"For years I fought the diagnosis, but he may, at some level, have been right. I certainly have trouble playing the political games, the social games, that we are expected to play. Catherine has often reminded me of my shortcomings in this area. My obsession with insects and with solving the mystery of physical death has led me to be a successful forensic entomologist – but at what cost personally? What I fight about it is the supposed lack of empathy, the inability to read people's emotions. When it comes to criminals who are hiding something, I tend to be quite observant of their behavior and the underlying psychological elements. It helps me to solve the crimes. Yet in my personal life…. I seem to miscommunicate more often than not; I'm always having to fix misunderstandings. You've already experienced that with me. I guess that was why Carl was warning you that you would need to be patient with me."

The silence grew. Grissom feared that he had shared too much; Sara struggled with how to show him that she understood. Her social skills were on a similar plane to his – and she had a fiery temper to add to the mix. Whether caused by genetics or environment, both of them suffered in the same way. They were awkward and isolated from most people, yet something irresistible drew them together. If only they could find understanding with one another, they wouldn't be so alone.

Sara knew it was up to her to break the silence. He was vulnerable, having shared such a secret part of his life.

"Gil, thank you."

"For what?"

"For sharing that with me. You could have lied and I wouldn't have known, but you chose to be open about it. You have shown me great understanding over the last few days. We have had our moments – but some of that would have happened to any couple learning to know each other. You know what a mess I am emotionally. Someone wise once said, 'it is not my place to judge, only to love.' I have felt safe and happy in our time together. For me that is a rare gift, so you don't have to worry about refined social graces with me, okay?"

Grissom squeezed her hand and grinned, "Thanks."

In the intensity of the discussion, Sara had forgotten about the other question. Grissom knew that he would have to tell her before she met his mother, but that might not be for a long time, if ever. He hoped she would forgive him for not saying anything sooner.

They stopped for lunch at a beachside stand, and ordered fish and chips. After eating, they took off their shoes, rolled up their pant legs, and walked in the gentle surf; each hoped that this was only one such walk of many.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

Returning to the car, they turned north once again, skirting the ocean until they headed inland in the late afternoon. Sara took over driving, and Grissom pulled out the Sullivan files.

"I'm sorry I have to spend so much time reading," he apologized, "But I promised Jim that I would be ready for Monday, and it's been almost a year since we closed the case."

"Don't worry about me; I don't mind the silence."

Night fell as they neared the edge of the city. Since it was Sunday, traffic was heavy, but not congested. It took them several hours to work their way from the fringes of civilization to Sara's apartment. It was a little after 9 pm when they finally arrived and unloaded the car.

"Are you hungry?" Sara asked when they were through. They walked into the kitchen to check the options. Opening the refrigerator, Grissom was reminded of some of his furry experiments that bothered his colleagues so much.

"Ewwhh," Sara scrunched her nose, "I forgot I've been gone almost a week – takeout containers don't age very gracefully, do they?"

"Let's go out," Grissom suggested, "I'm sure there's someplace open this late."

"There is. Remember Shannon's?"

They walked down the street to Shannon's Bar and Grill, only a few blocks from Sara's apartment. The bar was practically empty, only two tables were occupied and one couple sat at the bar. Grissom led Sara to a table near the back. After they had placed their orders for grilled fish and beers, they turned their focus to one another. Grissom reached across the table for Sara's hand, taking it in his, he began to caress it.

"Well, you're home. How does it feel?" he asked.

Sara looked into his warm blue eyes before responding, "With you here, it feels good, but what about tomorrow? I'm nervous about how I will be greeted by my Supervisor. I'm sure they've found my parents' case file by now and everyone will be staring at me and gossiping. It will be like being back in high school again."

"Brass is always looking for good CSI's, you could come to Vegas for a fresh start…"

"As tempting as that sounds, I need to finish what I started here. I feel like if I left now I would be running away from my problems, and they would win."

Their food and drinks arrived and they continued talking while they ate. Engrossed in one another, they did not notice when a lone man entered the restaurant and settled in at the bar. His face was flushed and he seemed agitated. He ordered drink after drink, downing them quickly. His gaze wandered about the room, studying the various patrons as he drank. After about 30 minutes, his focus landed on Sara. He smirked at her, and then turned so that he could watch her unobtrusively.

"Well, Sara, what have we here?" he thought to himself, "Are you actually here with a man? Hmmm…he looks pretty old, her father's dead, but maybe an uncle?" He continued watching them as they ate. He noticed the intimate looks and smiles, the touching hands, the pursed lip reactions melting into full smiles. "That's not a relative," he concluded, "Well, Sara, I guess you just don't like real men like me. Maybe you've been looking for a father figure? I'll bet he can't even come to the plate in bed. Just wait, girl, I'll show you what it feels like to be with a real man!"

The DJ returned from his dinner break and began spinning some music. The table ads boasted that Sunday nights featured classic rock and oldies. Grissom recognized a slow tune from his college days.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked, "I think I could handle this one…"

Sara smiled, "I'd love too, this will be our last chance for a few weeks…"

Grissom held her hand as they walked to the dance floor; neither noticed the leering eyes that followed them across the room. Eyes locked with one another, they fell naturally into each others' arms and began swaying to the music. Grissom's hands started on her hips, though he soon found himself exploring her back, caressing and drawing her into a closer embrace. Sara wove her fingers into his hair, gently massaging his neck. There bodies eased closer and closer with each verse and chorus.

"Sara, I'm going to miss holding you like this…" he whispered. Her soft sigh echoed his longing. He could feel her body pressed against his, her breasts, her hips, her thighs – only thin layers of cloth separating them. Soon they would return to her apartment, and there would be nothing between them. He kissed her neck in anticipation, allowing his lips to taste and feel the softness of her skin. She lifted her chin so that he could kiss her throat, ever so slowly moving towards her lips.

"We're in public," she breathed when his lips left hers, "Wait, and I'll make it up to you," she finished suggestively. He smiled, and then caressed her cheek with his own. Inhaling the scent of her hair and skin, his eyes darkened with desire. His lips teased her ear.

"I hope you weren't planning on sleeping tonight," he whispered so only she could hear. He felt her cheeks lift into a smile. She pulled back from him so that she could see the tenderness and passion in his eyes. Her smile widened as he grinned mischievously.

"I hope you can nap on planes," she countered, "Or you'll be in Jim's doghouse again!"

"I'll take the risk…" They lost themselves in the dance, swaying and moving as one. They danced through two numbers, barely noticing the shift in lyrics and melody.

But one observer noticed, and became increasingly annoyed as he watched them in their intimate embrace. Downing the rest of his drink in one gulp, he strode to the dance floor, his eyes never losing track of the couple. He positioned himself behind Sara's dance partner's back, and was rewarded by the look of shock in Sara's eyes.

"Mark," she gasped, "What's wrong with you? What are you doing?"

He tapped Grissom on the shoulder saying, "Cutting in." Grissom looked back over his shoulder, but did not release his hold on Sara. The stench of alcohol emanated from Mark. Grissom looked back into Sara's eyes and saw fear.

"I'm sorry," Grissom started, "But we're not through yet." He tried to deflate the situation, but Mark wasn't buying it.

"Oh, I think you are!" Mark replied, grabbing Sara and pulling her forcefully from Grissom's arms. Grissom responded immediately, placing his arms between them and shoving Mark away. Mark's inebriation caused him to lose his balance and he fell to the floor. "You're going to regret this, you bitch!" Mark yelled, "And you, Retard, you'd better watch your back."

"Sorry, Sara, but I think this dance is over," Grissom said.

"I agree, let's go back to the table." Grissom wrapped his arm protectively around Sara's shoulder and they walked back to their table. They watched as the bartender ran to Mark's side. He helped him to stand, and then pointed him towards the door. Mark stumbled to the door, then turned and leaned against the wall, watching again.

"Who was that?" Grissom asked as they sat back down.

"Mark Jenson, the CSI that was always harassing me. I switched shifts to avoid him."

The bartender hurried to their table, "I'm sorry folks. We don't usually have that sort of behavior in here." Grissom graciously accepted his apology.

"Is Mark always like that?" Grissom asked.

Sara answered, "He's always a jerk, but I haven't seen him drunk on the job."

"If he were on my team, I'd fire him for acting like that!"

"I don't think you or Brass would ever have hired him."

Their conversation returned to more pleasant topics and they forgot about the incident. An hour or so later, Grissom noticed Sara struggling not to yawn.

"Let's go home," he commented rising and helping her from the table. While she gathered her things he walked to the bar to pay their bill. The bartender once again apologized.

"Sir, please take this bottle of wine home. I still feel bad about what happened earlier." He wiped the dampness of the cooler off the bottle with a rag and handed the bottle to Grissom.

"This really isn't necessary," Grissom said.

"Please, I insist…"

"Well, thanks, then." Grissom took the bottle and walked back to Sara. He put his arm around her, and they walked out of the bar. They headed down the sidewalk towards Sara's apartment.

"Hey, what you got there?" Mark's voice spoke from the shadows. Mark stepped out and blocked their path. "Old man, why don't you leave this young lady with me so I can show her what it's like to be with a real man?"

Grissom visibly tensed. Everything about this man's behavior offended him.

"Mark, I don't know why you're behaving like this, but Sara is not interested in doing anything with you," Grissom answered.

"Heh, heh, that's what you think," Mark started, and then without warning slugged Grissom in the stomach. Grissom doubled over, dropping the bottle of wine which shattered on impact, splashing wine on all three of them. Grissom straightened up, swinging his clenched fist, striking Mark in the face, shattering his nose. Blood spurted from his nose, splattering on both Grissom and Sara. Mark grabbed his face as he fell to the ground.

"You bastard, you haven't heard the last from me! You're going to regret this night," Mark yelled.

Grissom calmly answered, "Oh, I think we've heard more than enough from you tonight. If I hear of any further attempts to harass Sara, you will be the one with regrets." Several customers leaving Shannon's walked quickly passed, stepping down into the street to avoid the altercation on the sidewalk.

"Sara, we'd better get going."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

Gil and Sara hurried down the street.

"I'm sorry, Sara," Grissom said.

Sara looked puzzled, "Why? You didn't start it!"

"I know, but I'm afraid I've made it worse."

Sara reached down to hold his hand and he winced with the contact. Surprised, he examined his hand. It was covered in blood; two of his knuckles were gashed.

"I must have hit some teeth…" he commented.

Sara checked the wound on his hand.

"My hero!" she teased and then laughed, "Sorry, I shouldn't laugh…"

He frowned, "I'm glad you're enjoying my pain." She looked over at him and saw the spark in his eyes. He wasn't angry, but he was confused.

"Seriously, no one has ever stood up for me like that, thank you," Sara said. She realized the fight had been disturbing for both of them. She wanted to diffuse his concern, so she poked him in the ribs and tickled him.

"Hey!" he cried. He grinned and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug, pinning her arms to her sides.

"Now try it!" he challenged. She squirmed then planted a playful kiss on his nose. He released his hold and caressed her cheek with the fingers of his uninjured hand. She covered his hand with hers and leaned into his soft touch. He shifted his hand, pulling her face towards his, kissing her gently, then more passionately. When they broke for air, he leaned his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, his heart pounding.

"Sara," he breathed, "What am I going to do with you?"

Remembering his answer from earlier in the day, she replied, "Anything you like…" They kissed again softly, then walked arm in arm back to Sara's apartment.

Once inside, Grissom took her in his arms and gazed deep into her eyes. He had never felt so vulnerable to anyone. She changed him. His emotions flooded his heart, overflowing into his eyes.

"Sara," he whispered, "I love you." She was unsettled by the intensity of his stare; no one had ever looked at her in that way before. In her life, when men looked at her lustfully it led to pain. But that wasn't his expression. Desire, yes, but not lust. Something new was happening between them and she didn't know if she was ready to be that vulnerable. 'Don't panic,' she thought, 'just pretend tonight is like any other night we've been together.'

She smiled, "I love you too, Gil," and then let herself be swept away by his passion. Leaving a trail of clothes, they headed for her small bedroom; his kisses left her weak, her pulse racing. She knew she loved him, more than she could admit even to herself, but love led to pain, and it was better not to think too much about it. Stumbling through her bedroom door, they hesitated, pausing to pull back the bedspread and to remove their few remaining clothes.

Sara noticed his hand, "Gil, your hand is still bleeding!" He looked down, he had forgotten about the blood and cuts on his hand. The cuts oozed, but they were clotting, the remainder of the blood was tacky, drying quickly.

"Does it bother you?" he asked impatiently.

"Yes, it will only take a minute to bandage it." She led him to her bathroom and quickly cleaned the wound. The cuts were in an awkward location to bandage, so she focused on stopping the bleeding.

"What time do you leave for your flight?" she asked.

"Five o'clock." She finished wrapping his knuckles in gauze and taped the end.

"Well, I'm done and time's wasting." She took his hands in hers and pulled him back towards the bed. He didn't need much encouragement. They let their passion take control. The incident at the bar had stirred their feelings for one another. Grissom felt protective, and a bit territorial, Sara felt safe, shielded by Gil's love. Gil captured her mouth, tasting her, exploring her lips and tongue with his. His hands caressed her body, tempting and exciting her. He was eager to please and to entice. With equal longing, her hands roamed his back and neck, drawing him down so that their bodies touched and joined. They had been together before, but as their friendship deepened, their physical connection increased as well. The intensity of their release swept over and through them, leaving them breathless. Still in each others' arms, they began again, this time moving slowly, tenderly, each longing to experience every tantalizing inch of the other's body. Time passed too quickly, and it was after two in the morning before they finally yielded to exhaustion. Moments later, Sara fell into a deep sleep.

Gil stared at the ceiling and thought about leaving her in San Francisco again. It would only be a few more weeks and he would be back for the summer, but what about at the end of the summer? He rolled on his side and watched her sleep. He couldn't resist the urge to trace her face with his fingers. Her breathing was deep and even, peaceful. So different from the first time he had watched her sleep on his couch, her jaw clenched, tormented by nightmares and memories. Could that really have been only six days before? So much had changed. They had moved from friends to lovers, each sharing deeply held secrets with one another in their urgent need to know and be known.

Not wanting to, but realizing he had no choice, he eased out of the bed, pulled on his boxers and returned to the living room. He found his laptop in his briefcase, set it on the dining room table and turned it on. He had promised he would be ready to testify and that meant double checking his photographic evidence and computer simulations. It wouldn't take long and then he could sneak back to bed before Sara woke.

Grissom had been working for an hour and was almost finished, when he heard Sara cry out in fear.

"No, don't, stop hurting me!" she screamed. Grissom ran back to the bedroom. She was kicking and hitting at the air, tears streamed down her face. He knelt by the bed and began talking softly.

"Sara, I'm here. I won't let anyone hurt you…" he whispered, "Sara, can you hear me?" She continued fighting in her sleep. He knew he'd be hit, but he moved closer, taking her in his arms. She pounded his chest for a few moments, then surrendered to his arms and began weeping into his shoulder.

"Shhh… Sara, I'm here, you don't need to be afraid…" he comforted her. He slid her back so he could lie down on the bed with her, still holding her in his arms. Her breathing calmed and she returned to sleep. Matching his breathing to hers, he too fell asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

The alarm rang at 4:30 in the morning.

"Arrgghh," Grissom groaned, not wanting to get up. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Sara hadn't moved, though her breathing changed.

"Sara, I have to leave in 30 minutes…"

Sara opened her eyes and frowned, "So soon?" They both got up and Grissom took a very brief shower. He found his carryon and grabbed the clothes that he had worn their first day on the road – he would change into his suit when he got to the lab. He quickly repacked his briefcase. While he packed, Sara called for a cab, brewed some coffee, and searched the kitchen for something to eat.

"Here's some coffee and a granola bar... It's all I could find," Sara said.

"It's fine, thanks." He sat down on the sofa and joined her for breakfast. Looking around the room, he saw the clothes they had dropped hurriedly the night before.

Following his gaze she said, "Don't worry about those. I'll wash them for you. You can collect them when you return to San Francisco." The doorbell rang. Grissom set his coffee down and leaned over to kiss Sara goodbye.

"I'll be back in a couple of weeks," he assured her. They rose and walked to the door, Grissom hugged her and kissed her one last time.

"I'll call tonight," he promised, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Sara replied.

Grissom picked up his bags and opened the door to leave. He looked back and smiled, then quickly followed the cab driver down to the parking lot. Sara closed the door and rushed to shower and change for her own early start to the day. She wanted to catch her supervisor before the end of shift. She was glad she had to hurry; it left her little time to think about what she would face at work.

Grissom's flight left on time. He took the opportunity to lean back and nap. He was glad that his mind was trained to function on little sleep. When the plane landed, he retrieved his car from the parking lot and drove directly to the lab, changing into his suit in the locker room. He reached down for his shoes and noticed the blood and wine stains on them. He set them in the base of his locker and sat there wondering what to do; he'd forgotten to pack his dress shoes. He walked in socked feet back to his office, hoping that he might find a spare pair of black loafers.

Jim and Catherine were waiting by the door when he arrived. They noticed his odd gait.

"Nice shoes, Gil," Catherine teased, "I'm not sure the casual look is good for court though."

Grissom threw back, "Good morning to you too, Catherine."

"Um, Gil, where _are_ your shoes?" asked Jim politely. Grissom looked down at his feet, hoping that shoes would magically appear.

"I forgot my dress shoes at home," he answered.

"Well, what did you wear in? They'd be better than nothing." Jim commented. Grissom unlocked his office, walked inside, and reached under his desk for the old pair of shoes that he used as slippers during long shifts. They were worn, but they were black. He slipped them on and walked back out of the office.

"Let's go," he said locking his door and walking quickly towards the exit, before they could make any more comments at his expense.

Sara took time to pick up the clothes from the living room floor and place them in a hamper, but did not have time to wash them. The bedroom mess she would address later. Sara finished getting ready and left for the lab at six o'clock. She signed in at 6:30 and walked to her supervisor's office. Nobody was around. The technicians were working quietly in the lab, but none of the CSI's were present. She decided to sit down in his office and wait.

Grissom road with Jim and Catherine to the court house. Jim filled him in while they drove.

"They swore in the jury and gave their opening statements first thing this morning. The responding officers were first on the docket, so we should have a little time to settle in. I'm scheduled next, just to establish the context for your testimony. Catherine will be next, and then you. If the defense balks at any of the evidence reports, we may have to call some of the techs to cover our bases. Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, I've reread the file and gone over the photos and computer simulations. I've talked through some of the evidence, trying to make it more jury friendly. We'll see how that goes," Grissom replied.

"I'm impressed," Catherine started, "Usually you don't worry about anyone understanding you. Why the change?"

"I want to see these guys behind bars. If talking over the jurors' heads endangers that outcome, then I don't want to do it." Jim and Catherine looked at one another and shrugged, they were looking forward to hearing Grissom's testimony.

Sara didn't have to wait long. About 30 minutes later everyone flew into the lab. Dennis Franks, her supervisor, ducked into his office and saw Sara waiting.

"Oh, Sara, I forgot you were coming in today. We've had busy night. I'll be with you in a moment," he said before grabbing a file and sweeping out the door again. Sara waited, watching everyone scurrying to log in and process evidence. Finally, she saw Supervisor Franks walking back to his office. She rose to greet him.

"Sara, it is good to see you back," he said, reaching out to shake her hand, "You had us all worried for awhile, but Dr. Collins assured us that you were fine – just too much stress and too little sleep. I hope he was right?" Sara hadn't expected Dr. Collins to cover for her like that. She didn't know if he knew that truth or not, but she suspected that he did. Dr. Collins had been with the department when her father was killed.

"Supervisor Franks, it's good to be back. I'm not sure what happened the other night. I guess seeing those two small children like that got to me. I shouldn't have left the scene. I'll take whatever disciplinary action you feel is necessary."

"Well, I'm glad to hear you're willing to accept responsibility for your actions. You will have to be cleared by a department psychologist before you can work in the field again. Until then, you'll be confined to the lab. We will also be docking you three days pay, to cover the days you were gone."

"That seems fair," Sara responded, "What do I need to do to be back tonight?"

"I'll have the paperwork prepared for you to sign when you clock in tonight. In the meantime, you should head upstairs and make an appointment to see the psychologist. He will evaluate you and perhaps recommend counseling. "

Sara smiled, "I'll go up now and see if he's has any time this week." Sara stood up and extended her hand for Franks to shake. "I know you're busy, so I'll let you get back to work. Thank you again, for your understanding." Franks returned her smile.

"I want you to get on your feet again as soon as possible. You're too good at your job to stay on the sidelines for long. Good luck with your evaluation." Sara pursed her lips, uncomfortable with his praise, and then nodded to acknowledge him, before leaving the room.

Grissom, Brass, and Willows settled into the waiting area outside the courtroom with their notes and laptops. Inside, the first responding officer was on the stand, being questioned by the Assistant District Attorney, Maddie Kline.

"You were dispatched to 143 S. Hoover Drive, what did you find when you arrived."

"We were told that it was a domestic dispute, so we approached with caution. We saw a man covered in blood run out the front door. My partner went in pursuit, and tackled him in the yard. We cuffed the suspect and locked him in the back of our vehicle."

"Do you see that man in the courtroom today?"  
"Yes, he's sitting to the right of the defense counsel."

"Okay, what happened next?"

"We approached the open door. We could hear a man and a woman arguing, so we unclipped our weapons. When we looked through the door we were shocked." The officer dropped his eyes to examine his hands before continuing, "The room was covered in blood. I'd never seen anything like it. There were two people standing in the middle of the room, a man and a woman. At there feet I could see something. At first I thought it was a pile of clothes or a blanket, but then it moved and I could see that it was a small child." The officer stopped again, struggling to maintain his composure.

"What did you do next?" the ADA Kline prompted gently.

"We took the two adults into custody, called for the paramedics and CSI, and for transport for our three suspects. I, uh, I walked carefully over to the child to check, because she was no longer moving. I crouched down to check her pulse, but her eyes were fixed open – it was too late. She was so bloody and broken, I… I ran out of the house and vomited in the yard."

"Are the two adults you placed in custody here today?"

"Yes, they are also sitting at the defense table."

"Thank you, Officer Michaels, no further questions." Officer Michaels left the stand, and his partner took his place. Similar questions were asked and answered as the trial continued.

Sara walked in to the Human Resources Office to request an appointment with the Evaluating Psychologist. She was directed to his office, and told to wait for the receptionist to call her name. About 15 minutes later, she was called up and they began comparing schedules to find an opening. A few minutes later she wrote the appointment in her calendar, thanked the receptionist, and took the elevator back down to the lab.

As the elevator doors opened, she thought she'd been transported to the set of a horror film. Everyone was racing about, anguish written on their faces. She walked quickly towards the lab to find out what had happened. Voices became silent and people stared when she passed. 'Oh great,' she thought, 'someone found out about my parents!' Supervisor Franks came towards her.

"Sara, into my office, now!" Supervisor Franks ordered. Sara followed him silently. When they were both inside, he closed the door and turned to face her.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

**Chapter 8:**

"Sara, into my office, now!" Supervisor Franks ordered. Sara followed him silently. When they were both inside, he closed the door and turned to face her.

"Sara, where were you last night?" Sara was puzzled, why was that any of his business?

"What time? I arrived back in San Francisco about 9 pm, and then went to Shannon's for dinner. I left about midnight and returned home. Why are you asking?"

"Did you happen to see Mark Jenson while at Shannon's?"

"What has he accused me of now?" she asked angrily. "I did see him, in all his glory – one of the biggest SOB's on the planet!"

"Why do you say that?" he asked quietly.

"He wouldn't take no for an answer."

"Were you alone or were you with someone?" he continued interrogating.

Sara sensed that something more was wrong. She didn't want to bring Grissom into this without knowing what.

"Why are you asking me these questions?" she asked.

"CSI Day shift responded to a call about an hour ago. They found the body of Mark Jenson outside of Shannon's Bar and Grill. Witnesses say they saw you and a friend in an altercation with Mark shortly after midnight." All blood fled from Sara's face. Supervisor Franks noticed her paling reaction.

After a few moments she responded in a highly controlled voice, "You should have informed me of that prior to questioning. Mark was alive when I last saw him, but given the situation, I believe I'd like to talk to a lawyer prior to answering any more questions. Am I being held?"

"You are being held for questioning as a person of interest. We would like to talk to the man you were with last night as well, if you could tell us how to reach him."

Sara thought for a moment. She wanted to appear cooperative, but this was moving way too fast for her. She did not want Grissom involved unless it was absolutely necessary. She would wait for an attorney to advise her.

"I would really like to cooperate," she began, "but I feel I need to talk to an attorney before I say anything more."

"Sara, I'm sorry to have to put you through this. But I'm sorrier that Mark is dead." He opened the door and motioned to an officer standing outside.

"Please take Ms. Sidle to a holding room where she can wait for her attorney. Sara, please be advised, we have received a search warrant for your home, and CSI are meeting with your landlord now to execute it. I truly hope you're not involved with this."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

**Disclaimer: The presentation of this crime is based on an actual case tried in a city near where I live. While I did not have access to police reports or evidence, the photographs (taken in the hospital emergency room) of the infant killed in the crime were shown on the evening news, along with a description of the charges against her parents. The injuries were horrific. **

"State your name please."

"James Brass."

"Do you swear to tell the truth?"

"Yes."

Maddie Kline approached the witness stand with a police report file in hand.

"Captain Brass, why were you called to 143 S. Hoover Drive on the day in question?"

"The responding officers reported that the child had died under suspicious circumstances, which made it a homicide investigation."

"And what did you see and do once you arrived at the scene?"

"The three suspects were in police custody, and the little girl's body was still in the house, waiting to be pronounced by the coroner and processed by CSI. I called Dr. Gilbert Grissom and CSI Catherine Willows to investigate the scene."

"What did you observe?"

"The suspects' clothes were covered with blood. Their eyes were glazed, and their movements awkward. There were empty beer bottles and drug paraphernalia on the living room floor."

Maddie continued to ask questions, drawing out the details of the first appearance of the crime scene. The defense attorney briefly cross-examined Brass and then released him. The next witness approached the stand, swinging his leg and crutch in a limping gate.

"State your name please."

"Doctor Albert Robbins."

"Do you swear to tell the truth?"

"Yes."

Once again, ADA Maddie Kline began asking questions, "Dr. Robbins, you performed the autopsy on Jamie Sullivan, correct?"

"Yes."

"What injuries did you find, and what was ultimately the cause of death?" A projector was turned on, and images of the injured girl began appearing on the screen as he spoke.

"The injuries were extensive. Both arms and legs suffered multiple course breaks. There were deep contusions on her torso, face and head. Her skull and brain showed signs of having been shaken and thrown against a hard surface. The sexual assault exam revealed both rape and sodomy. Semen was present in both orifices. Her neck was broken, and her brain stem severed by blunt trauma."

"What was the cause of death?"

"A number of these injuries would have eventually led to her death, but the severing of her brain stem shortened her suffering and was the immediate cause of death."

"Doctor, were all of there injuries new, or was there evidence of long term abuse?"

"There were signs of previous broken bones and concussion injuries. She was only 19 months old, her injuries dated back to shortly after her birth."

Dr. Robbins testimony was concluded. The defense attorney asked no questions on cross-examination. Mercifully, the judge called a short recess to recover from images seen.

The San Francisco CSI's descended on Sara's apartment. They were looking for any evidence that might link her to her former co-worker's death. They were also trying to identify her male companion. The living room appeared clean and orderly, but there were drops of blood on the floor by the door and leading to the bedroom. There were two coffee cups on the table by the sofa. The bedroom was in disarray, the bed showed signs of recent sexual activity, with biological evidence apparent. The hamper yielded clothes with blood splatter and other unidentified stains. In the pocket of the pair of men's jeans, there was a receipt for Shannon's dated the previous evening, which indicated dinner and drinks for two. In the bathroom waste basket were bloody bandages and cleaning wipes. They continued processing the scene, recovering many fingerprints and other evidence. They did not find a name for the male suspect, but they were confident that some of the evidence would lead to his identification.

Back at the police station, eye witnesses were being questioned about the incident on the dance floor and outside the bar door. Sketch artists were developing renderings of the male suspect, based on their descriptions.

Dr. Collins thought about talking with Sara, but realized that anything she told him would make him liable to be called as a witness. He was fairly confident that the male companion would have been Dr. Grissom. The only thing he could think to do to help was to call and warn him. He still had his cell number from the previous week's call, so he found a secluded corner of the morgue and dialed.

Grissom stood outside the courtroom talking with Jim and Catherine. Catherine was expecting to be called at the end of the short recess. Grissom's cell phone buzzed.

"Grissom."

"Dr. Grissom, this is Dr. Collins, I'm afraid we need to talk."

"Dr. Collins, what's wrong?"

"There's no easy way to say this. Do you know a man named Mark Jenson?"

"He is a CSI in San Francisco, right?"

"I'm glad to hear you use the present tense," Dr. Collins replied. Grissom's eyebrow rose in puzzlement. He looked over at his colleagues; they were following his end of the conversation.

"What do you mean?"

"Mark Jenson's body was found this morning outside Shannon's. They are holding Sara as a person of interest. She has not revealed the identity of her companion, but it is only a matter of time before the evidence speaks for itself. Her companion is considered the lead suspect in the case."

"What? They think I killed him!" Grissom answered, and then lowered his voice, "But he was alive when Sara and I left…. Bleeding from a broken nose and cursing at us – very much alive." Jim and Catherine looked at Grissom in shock. Had they really heard him right? Just then, Catherine was called in to testify.

"Jim, fill me in when I get back, okay?" she whispered when she left.

Dr. Collins continued, "Dr. Grissom, I don't know what happened last night, but this is serious. Mark was one of their own – they have the entire department working to find his murderer. Check with your friends, but I think cooperating would be a good idea. Maybe if you turn yourself in they will listen more to what you say for yourself."

"Dr. Collins, thank you for taking this risk to contact me. If you see Sara….well, I guess you can't really say anything to her without compromising yourself. I have to testify in court today, but I will do what I can as soon as I'm finished. Keep me posted, please?"

"I'll try. Don't take too long. If they think you were fleeing the state by returning to Vegas and then hiding from them, it won't be well received."

"Thanks for the advice. I'd better let you go."

"Dr. Grissom, goodbye and good luck." Grissom hung up and turned to his best friend, Jim Brass.

"Um, how much of that did you get, Jim?"

"Just the part about you being suspected of killing a man… What have you done now, Gil?"

"I need to talk to you in private as soon as we're through here."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 (revised):**

The San Francisco CSI's buzzed around the lab as bees flit around their hive. The investigation and processing of this case fell to day shift, since Mark worked for Swing and Sara for Nights, Days was considered to be most objective. The evidence bags from the crime scene and the body were carefully labeled and distributed to the appropriate techs. They had found the broken neck of a bottle of wine. Blood found on the sharpened edge had been sent to DNA. Now it was up to the fingerprint tech to reconstruct the bottle and recover any possible finger prints. He had dusted the neck and found only smudges. He started with a bottle-shaped clay blank, covered the top with the neck, and began solving the puzzle created by the shattered pieces by matching edges and pushing them in to the clay form. It took some time, but most of the bottle had been recovered from the scene. He recovered several good prints on the bottle, which he labeled and set aside to run through the computer database. Another wave of returning CSIs brought more work to the fingerprint lab.

"Process these right way," the CSI commented, "they're from Sidle's apartment, and may identify her companion."

"I'll look at them now, thanks." Each bag contained a coffee mug. A light dusting revealed good prints on both mugs. He taped the prints from the mugs and then added them to the pile collected from the murder weapon to run through the computer. It would take time, but soon they would have some answers.

Sara sat alone in the interrogation room waiting for an attorney. Her mind replayed the events of the evening. Mark had been alive when they left and his injury was not life threatening. Grissom was not a murderer; besides, he had not left her side the entire night…had he? She remembered having had another nightmare, where had Gil been then? When she became aware of his presence, he had been kneeling on the floor beside the bed. She was puzzled. The night had been so short, why had he been up? Nothing in their few months together indicated that he would be capable of killing someone, but did she really know him?

'Sara, stop it!' she commanded herself, 'Neither of you is capable of this crime… Don't lose control! Think!' Supervisor Franks had given her no details of the crime. Mark's body had been found near the bar, but where exactly? She and Gil left at midnight; the body wasn't found until the following morning. There was plenty of time for someone else to have committed the murder. She didn't like Mark, she barely tolerated him, but he had been a colleague. His death was still a loss to be grieved – by someone.

Grissom and Brass sat without talking through the early afternoon. Catherine's testimony was not expected to take the rest of the day, but it was graphic, and each hoped the judge might choose to recess early. While they waited, Grissom thought about what he needed to do. If he were arrested and charged with murder, his testimony might be thrown out, or lead to a mistrial. While he knew he was innocent, and he was confident that they would be able to prove it, he didn't want to risk losing the Sullivan conviction. He needed to talk to the District Attorney. He would need to inform the Sheriff as well. Grissom couldn't believe he had found himself in this situation. He knew if the victim were one of his team, he would leave no stone unturned to find the killer. He knew the police in San Francisco would be no less dedicated. He also knew that his fingerprints and DNA were on file. It would not take long for them to identify him. Whatever steps he was going to take, he needed to take them immediately.

"Jim, could you call the Sheriff and the DA and make an appointment to talk with them as soon as possible? Make sure they are aware that it is urgent, but don't give them any details."

"Gil, what are you going to do?"

"I need to turn myself in, even if I'm only a person of interest, but I want to talk to everyone here first. Somehow we need to have access to the evidence. I know I'm innocent, but I don't trust the San Francisco CSI's to look that closely. They will want to arrest someone quickly."

Jim nodded. He had been thinking along the same lines. He pulled his phone out of his suit pocket and dialed. He hoped he could convince the DA and the Sheriff to free their afternoons.

Catherine's posture always communicated confidence. She made a good witness. They completed the preliminary questions and moved on to one of her specialties – blood splatter.

The ADA entered an image of the crime scene into evidence, and then projected it for the court to see.

"What can you tell me about this image?"

"I took this photograph during our first visit to the crime scene. The pattern of blood droplets indicate that the injuries to the victim were inflicted from more than one direction. The high velocity splatter here and here," she pointed to the projected image, "indicate a great deal of force was exerted in these blows. The medium velocity splatter here," she pointed again, "indicates less force was involved."

"Can you tell whether these blows were simultaneous or sequential?"

"Based on the overlap of spray patterns they appear to have been created at about the same time. The shape of the overlapping drops show that the blood from the first drop was still wet when the second drop arrived. Given the extreme directionality, this would indicate multiple attackers."

"Was the blood tested for DNA?"

"Yes. DNA testing revealed that all of this blood on the walls and ceiling came from the victim."

"Dr. Robbins confirmed that the victim suffered sexual penetration both vaginally and anally. I would like to enter into evidence the results of DNA testing on the SAE swabs. Ms. Willows, did you run DNA tests on these swabs."

"Our DNA technician, Greg Sanders, ran the DNA tests under my supervision."

"And what were the results?"

"DNA from two donors, in the form of seminal fluid, was recovered from both areas. One donor was the victim's father, the other was also related, most likely a half brother or cousin."

"So this tiny child was raped and sodomized by her own father and cousin?"

"Yes, that is what the evidence shows."

The questioning continued, drawing out in sickening detail the torture suffered by the young victim. There was little cross-examination, and the judge chose to recess for the night.

"Sara Sidle?" Sara emerged from her thoughts and looked up at an older man standing in the doorway.

"Yes," she replied quietly.

"I'm Clifford Brown, I will be acting as your defense counsel. What can you tell me about last night?"

Sara looked around the room and then answered, "Nothing while we are in this room. They can hear everything we say. Find us a secure place, and then we can talk."

Brass was able to arrange a meeting between the four of them for mid-afternoon.

Grissom asked, "How did you get them to agree so quickly?"

"Using my ever-present charm and good looks…" Jim replied. Grissom looked at him skeptically.

Brass grinned and then replied, "Okay, so I called in a few favors. Why do I keep you as a friend?"

"Wait a few days, I may be out of your way for a long time," Grissom answered grimly.

The fingerprint tech watched the screen flash as the fingerprints from the murder weapon spun through the system. He'd been watching for an hour, but there were a lot of prints in the database. The computer hesitated, then declared, 'positive match.' The tech looked at the identification – Gilbert Grissom, Las Vegas Police Department, Criminalist Level 3. 'That can't be right,' he thought to himself, 'what would he be doing outside a bar in San Francisco?' He decided to process the mug prints before passing the information along. If they confirmed the match, then he wouldn't be taking such a risk. An hour later, he had his matches – Sara Sidle and Dr. Gilbert Grissom. Dr. Grissom's prints were both at the apartment and on the murder weapon. Not airtight evidence, but enough for a warrant.


	11. Chapter 11

I have revised chapters 10 and 11 to correct some oversights in my first draft…. I will be adding chapter 12 (and perhaps 13) soon.

Thank you for your patience!

**Chapter 11:**

Sara and her attorney were shown to another office so that they could consult in private.

"Thank you for helping me," Sara said, "Where would you like for me to begin?"

"Tell me about last night. Where you went, who you were with, what happened. Why do they think you know something about this murder?"

"I have been in Las Vegas for the last few days, recovering from a traumatic experience at a crime scene. I arrived back in town last night at about 9 o'clock in the evening."

The attorney interrupted, "You were on vacation?"

"Not exactly, more like a short medical leave. I was visiting a good friend. He drove back to San Francisco with me, to help me get resettled."

"Is this friend the man everyone is looking for? Tell me about him."

"His name is Gilbert Grissom."

"The forensic entomologist?" the attorney interrupted again.

"Yes, I can't imagine there are too many men with that name… We met at a forensics conference two months ago and we have been friends ever since."

"He's quite a bit older than you, isn't he? So he's like a mentor?"

"Why does everyone make such a big deal about age? Yes, he's like a mentor, but he's more like my boyfriend – though I've never actually admitted that to anyone before."

"Oh! Well, go on with your story."

"We arrived at my apartment around 9pm, as I said, and we found there wasn't any food, so we went out to eat. Shannon's is only a few blocks away, so we walked. The restaurant was practically empty. We found a booth and ordered dinner."

"Was Mark Jenson there when you arrived?" he asked.

"No. There were two couples sitting at tables and one couple at the bar. The only other people present were the bartender and the waitress. We ordered, ate, talked. Mark must have arrived while we were eating, I don't remember seeing him come in."

"What happened next?"

"Gil asked me to dance, so we were on the dance floor when Mark suddenly appeared behind Gil's back. He reeked of alcohol. He tried to break in, but we said no. He grabbed me and started pulling me away. Gil stopped him and Mark fell down and started cursing at us. Gil and I went back to the table and the bartender told Mark to leave."

"So there weren't any threats made or blows exchanged at that point?"

"No, Gil moved in between Mark and I and Mark fell down because he was plastered. Nothing more happened during dinner. When we left, the bartender gave us a bottle of wine as an apology. We headed home. Mark was waiting for us outside. We tried to walk away, but he sucker punched Gil in the stomach. Gil dropped the wine bottle and punched Mark, breaking his nose and causing him to fall again. Gil told him to leave me alone, and then we left. Mark was still very much alive, yelling threats at us."

"What happened after that?"

"We went home."

"What time did Dr. Grissom leave your home?"

"He didn't. At least not until this morning – a cab picked him up at 5 am for his flight back to Las Vegas."

"He spent the night?"

"Yes, I told you he's my boyfriend. I bandaged his hand and we went to bed. End of story, until this morning at the station when I found out Mark had been killed."

"Okay, that seems fairly straight forward. I'm sure we can clear this up soon. I'll need to find out what evidence they have and why they feel they need to hold you. Do you know how to reach Dr. Grissom?"

"Of course, though he was supposed to be in court all day today testifying about one of his cases. I have his home phone, his office phone, and his cell number, but I don't want him involved unless it is absolutely necessary."

"It is necessary. I'll let you know what I find out. Sit tight; I'll see what I can do."

Grissom paced nervously outside the Sheriff's office waiting for the appointed meeting time. Jim stood leaning against the wall watching his friend. Right on schedule the District Attorney walked in and approached Brass holding out his hand for Brass to shake.

"Jim, what's this about? Why did we have to clear our calendars today?

"Let's go inside, so we can talk in private." The DA noticed Dr. Grissom, greeted him, and shook his hand. The three men walked into Sheriff Mobley's office and sat down at the conference table. The sheriff and the DA looked at Brass expectantly.

"Gentlemen, we have a very serious problem facing us. Gil, would you like to explain?"

Grissom stared at his hands for a few moments and then spoke, "Jim, gentlemen, thank you for seeing us on such short notice. I don't know of any easy way to say this… I received a phone call from someone I trust in San Francisco informing me that I am the primary suspect in the murder of one of their CSIs."

"What!?" the DA and Sheriff exclaimed in unison. They were stunned.

"I was at a bar with a friend of mine; well, with my girlfriend, last night. One of her former coworkers tried to cause trouble. There was a brief incident inside the bar, and then he confronted us outside when we left. He sucker punched me in the stomach, I responded by decking him, breaking his nose. I warned him to leave us alone and then we left. He was still very much alive. Apparently his body was found outside the bar the next morning. That's all I know."

"You swear you did not have anything to do with this man's murder?"

"Yes, I swear, neither of us did."

"Do you have an alibi?" asked the DA.

"Yes, um, my girlfriend and I spent the night at her apartment; I didn't leave until the following morning."

"Of course, if they are charging her as an accomplice, that won't mean much…" commented the Sheriff, "What do you think we can do about it?"

"Probably nothing, but I thought you should hear it from me before I turn myself in. You'll need to have Catherine cover my testimony for the Sullivan case; I don't want to taint the trial. Also, I'd like to request someone from here track the evidence in the investigation in San Francisco – I don't trust the local CSI's to be objective…."

The Sheriff's phone rang before he could finish.

"Sheriff Mobley," he answered, and then listened. He watched Grissom, trying to read his mind.

"Yes, we'll cooperate," Mobley said, "Actually, he's sitting in my office now. He stopped by to tell us he would be turning himself in." Mobley listened some more.

"Dr. Grissom is a man of high integrity. I'm sure that when the evidence is examined, his name will be entirely cleared."

Silence filled the office, Grissom staring blankly at the floor.

"He is cooperating fully; we will hold him until your men arrive." The Sheriff hung up.

"Gil, I never expected to see you in this situation. Consider yourself under arrest. They have sent officers to escort you back to San Francisco. Apparently the evidence is convincing, if circumstantial. Officially, conflict of interest binds our hands, but we do wish you the best of luck. Jim, I'll need you to keep out of this. We can't have the department sullied if he is convicted. Unofficially, I think perhaps you might find a good CSI in need of a California vacation? I'm sure the defense attorney will need a forensic consultant to assist with evidence analysis."

The four men rose and shook hands. The Sheriff's secretary opened to door to allow two uniformed men to enter.

"I'm sorry sir," one of the officers said to Grissom, "but I am placing you under arrest for the murder of Mark Jenson. You have the right to remain silent, should you choose not to remain silent, anything you say can be used against you in the court of law. You can have an attorney to represent you, if you cannot afford one, an attorney will be provided for you. Do you understand your rights as they have been explained to you?"

"Yes," Grissom said wearily, "I understand. Let's just get this over with." The officer pulled his handcuffs from his belt.

Brass interrupted, "Is that really necessary? He's cooperating fully."

"I'm sorry sir, but he's been charged with first degree murder, and he fled across state lines, making him a fugitive. The handcuffs are required."

"Well, at least hang his jacket over them or something. He's well respected around here, give him some dignity!"

"What of Mark Jenson's dignity?" the second officer responded harshly. Grissom held out his hands and they snapped the cuffs on him.

Walking out through the station, the police officers, court officials, and CSIs stood against the wall watching in shocked silence as their top forensic scientist was led away in handcuffs.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

Chapter 12:

Sheriff Mobley stood with the DA and Jim Brass watching their colleague being taken away.

"Jim, keep a close watch on his case. Choose one of your CSIs to follow Gil to San Francisco; the defense will need someone to take a look at the evidence with fresh eyes. I'll take care of damage control and publicity here in Las Vegas." Jim nodded and then followed Gil and the officers down the hall and out to the parking lot. The officers settled Grissom into the back seat of their borrowed police cruiser and then turned to Brass.

"We have a warrant for the possessions that Dr. Grissom brought from San Francisco," asked the arresting officer.

"Dr. Grissom is cooperating, ask him where his things are, and I will help you gather them." Working together, they collected his duffle and briefcase from his office, and his clothes and shoes from the locker room; that done, the SFPD officers left for the airport and their return trip to San Francisco. Jim called Catherine at home and asked her to assemble the night shift crew for an urgent meeting in his office.

Dr. Collins assigned the autopsy of Mark Jenson to another coroner, but he followed the case closely, reading the report as soon as it was filed. The COD was exsanguination from a deep cut to the carotid artery. The cut had a sharp upward angle, and appeared to have been delivered from by a right handed individual, holding the victim from behind. Trace amounts of tiny glass shards were present in the wound. The nose was broken and the upper lip split, but the lack of additional facial injuries indicated a single blow to the face. There were bruises around the victims wrists made in a familiar pattern – a hand print. A torn rotary-cuff muscle and strains to the shoulder and elbow ligaments indicated the victim's arm had been twisted behind his back, perhaps to subdue or control him. There were additional defensive wounds, cuts and bruises, on the victim's arms. There were no notes in the file regarding the relative height or position of the attacker and victim as indicated by wound position and angle. Dr. Collins would have to pursue that missing information. The material scraped from under the victim's fingernails was still being evaluated. His clothes were covered in blood, particularly his shirt. There was also another oily substance which was being processed by the lab techs. The time of death was calculated between 3 and 5 in the morning, only hours before his body was discovered.

Sara and her attorney were led to an interrogation room. The detectives ask her about the events in the bar and the fight outside. She told them the same story that she had told Supervisor Franks – the simple truth. They then focused on the actions of their primary suspect.

"Sara, you and your companion returned to your home at midnight, and remained there until 5 am, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"You were together that entire time?" Sara remembered her nightmare and hesitated for a moment – was he with her then? The detective noticed the doubt as it raced behind her eyes.

"Yes."

"You seem to have some doubts, are you sure?"

"Well, I, we, fell asleep for awhile, and I was not consciously aware of that time, other than that, yes I am completely sure."

"What time would that have been?"

"Somewhere between 2:30 – 4:30 am, though I woke up at around 3:30 and he was there."

The detectives looked at each other. They were looking for a gap between 3 and 5 o'clock. There wasn't much, but it would have been possible. That is, if she was telling the truth. If she wasn't, there might actually be a bigger gap…

Jim Brass closed the door to his office. Catherine Willows, Nick Stokes and Warrick Brown were all gathered around his desk.

"What is this about Jim?" Catherine asked.

"Grissom ran into some trouble out in California this weekend," he began conservatively, "We are going to have to pull together to support him through this."  
"What are you talking about?" asked Nick.

"Grissom was arrested for the murder of a San Francisco CSI named Mark Jenson."

"What?!" they all exclaimed in unison.

"He was involved in a fight at a bar, and the other guy turned up dead the next morning. Grissom had nothing to do with it, but his alibi is a bit flimsy, and the circumstantial evidence points his direction."

Nick questioned, "Grissom? In a fight? That doesn't sound like him… What's the alibi?"

"He spent the night with his, um, girlfriend, at her apartment."

"Grissom has a sleep-over girlfriend? The dog. Well, she vouches for him right?" Warrick asked.  
"Yes, but she was the subject of the fight, so the police do not believe her testimony is reliable."

"What can we do to help?" Catherine asked.

"Catherine, you're going to have to keep the night shift running very short handed. Nick, you'll be supporting Catherine. Warrick, you're on vacation."

"What? I can't go on vacation now, I need to help out!"

"You will be. You're taking a vacation to California, to assist the defense team in analyzing the evidence. Catherine can't go, and I know you and Grissom are tight – I though you'd want to be the one to go."

"Thanks man, I won't let either of you down."

"Okay, let's get to work, Warrick, we need to make arrangements for you to fly to San Francisco." Catherine and Nick took the open cases and left the room, Jim and Warrick began going over the details and making travel arrangements.

The San Francisco day shift was winding down. They met in their conference room to analyze their evidence and results.

"What do we have so far?" Supervisor Gutierrez asked his team.

"The only fingerprints at the scene were from the broken bottle – the murder weapon – they have been confirmed to match Dr. Gilbert Grissom of Las Vegas. The prints from one of the coffee mugs also match Dr. Grissom. The prints from the other mug are Sara Sidles."

"Dr. Grissom? Didn't he speak about evidence protocol at last spring's Forensics Academy? I thought his name was familiar. If I remember right, Sara also attended the academy…" commented CSI Jaime Miller.

"Yes, they were quite taken with one another if I recall," added CSI Neil Ferguson.

"Enough gossip," interrupted Gutierrez, "what other evidence do we have?"

"COD was a severed carotid artery; victim would have bled out quickly. Murder weapon seems to be the neck of a broken wine bottle, the rest of the wine bottle was found at the scene. The wound was inflicted from behind; there was a void in the blood on his shirt, so something was in the path of the blood spray from the Mark's neck."

"So we may be able to match blood splatter if we find the murderer's clothes?"

"Yes. We haven't found anything that matched so far, but we haven't processed everything yet."

"Anything else at the scene?"

"Limited footprints, blood droplets leading away from the area, we're still waiting for DNA results."

"What did we find at Sara's apartment?"

"Clothes with blood, but not enough to account for the void, receipt from Shannons, bloody rags and bandages in the trash, sheets indicating recent sexual activity, latex gloves in pant pockets…" Ferguson read from the evidence list in the file.

"Latex gloves?"

"Yeah, could be suspicious, but then again, he is a CSI, and I imagine we'd find odd pairs of gloves in our laundry too…"

"Okay, anyone want to narrate the murder?" Gutierrez asked.

"Sidle and Grissom are at the bar. Mark arrives and begins to give Sidle attention; Grissom responds jealously and pushes Mark away. They fight again outside the restaurant, resulting in a broken nose. Grissom leaves with Sidle. Later that night, Grissom comes back alone. Mark had returned to the bar, so Grissom picks up the broken bottle and waits outside for him to leave. They fight again; Grissom has the advantage of a weapon and surprise. Mark ends up dead."

"Does the evidence support that scenario?"

"There is little evidence at the scene. What is there supports this account. The DA is asking for more, quickly. Dr. Grissom has a history with law enforcement in this state. He started his career in the Los Angeles' Coroner's Office, and he frequently teaches at our academy. While the media will love him as a suspect, the DA is reluctant to go forward without more substantive evidence linking him to the crime."

"But I thought they had already issued a warrant for his arrest?"

"They did, he's being flown back to San Francisco as we speak. We're being pressured for results here."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13:**

Monday evening, Las Vegas:

The Las Vegas DA phoned the presiding judge in the Sullivan case. He outlined the situation and asked that the trial be recessed for a few days so that they could reframe their case.

"We already have a jury sequestered. Do you think they would like to sit around while you do that? I can give you 24 hours. After that, we need to move forward again. Find another way to present the evidence." The judge's decision was final, if something didn't break in 24 hours they would have to prosecute without Grissom's testimony. The DA called Jim Brass and asked for the complete list of all the techs who processed evidence for the case. No one could replace Grissom's presence on the stand, but they could supply the same evidence.

Jim Brass worked in his office. Night shift didn't officially begin for hours, but he couldn't rest until his friend was home safe, the Sullivan case was tried, and the night shift cases were closed. It would be a long week. He opened the Sullivan file and began reviewing the evidence that Grissom was supposed to cover. He needed the techs who had processed the information. There weren't any names given.

'Gil, why did you have to choose this case to do your own processing?' he asked himself. Well, he'd have to have someone else start over and recreate the results. The ringing of his office phone interrupted his thoughts.

"Brass."

"Hello, am I talking with Jim Brass, Las Vegas CSI?"

"Yes, how may I help you?"

"My name is Clifford Brown, Ms. Sara Sidle gave me your name. I have been trying to reach Dr. Grissom, but I guess he's now in custody. I am representing Ms. Sidle."

"Mr. Brown, I'm glad to hear she has an attorney, but how can I help you?"

"It seems to me that this whole case is being rushed and I wanted to confirm Sara's story. Did Dr. Grissom tell you anything?" Jim reviewed what Gil had shared with him that afternoon.

"Thank you, that meshes exactly with Sara's story. Unfortunately, there is apparently no evidence to support it. What little they have released to me seems to point in another direction," replied Brown.

"We were expecting there to be problems with the evidence, police departments are not always clear headed when one of their own in killed. One of our CSIs is flying to San Francisco tonight – Warrick Brown. He will be available to consult on the evidence analysis if you would like. I do not know who will be representing Dr. Grissom, but I'm sure you could coordinate your efforts."

"Thank you, I'll contact him. Maybe he can start working on what evidence we have while they process Dr. Grissom…" They exchanged cell phone and other contact information and ended their conversation.

Monday evening, San Francisco:

Dennis Franks, CSI night shift supervisor, arrived early. Actually, he had been there all day, and had only taken a break to find dinner. He knew Sara had transferred to nights to avoid dealing with Mark's harassment, but he didn't like the way that the day shift was investigating the case. It didn't make sense, Sara would not respond in that manner. Franks had attended a number of seminars presented by Dr. Grissom, and he had called him as a consultant on more than one case. He was not capable of this crime. Franks found himself smiling; he could see him with Sara though… She and Dr. Grissom were a lot alike, both were driven and perfectionistic in their investigations, both were brilliant intellectually, but awkward socially. He wasn't surprised if their professional intensity translated into personal passion. He had dismissed the rumors circulating after the forensics academy, but apparently there was something to them. 'I guess old dogs can learn new tricks,' he grinned to himself. His hands were tied by the department, but he needed to find a way to help. He didn't want Mark's real killer to go unpunished. He didn't want law enforcement to lose the service of two outstanding investigators unnecessarily.

Clifford Brown requested to speak with his client, so they retrieved Sara from the holding cell where she had been waiting. He wanted to give her an update on the case, as well as a break from the depressing and frightening environment of the cell. They were being led to an interview room when there was a commotion at the end of the hall. He looked up to see a middle aged man with dark hair being brought in wearing handcuffs. Brown glanced over at his client. Sara's eyes were also drawn to the group walking down the hall. She willed Grissom to look up, locking onto his eyes when he did. At first, she saw her pain and confusion mirrored, and then his eyes softened as they gazed into hers. 'I love you, hang in there,' she mouthed, hoping he could read her lips. He smiled and nodded, 'I love you too,' he mouthed back before he was shoved into an interrogation room. Brown cleared his throat to draw Sara's attention away from the door of the interrogation room.

***********************************************************

**Dear readers,**

Thank you for reading…. I'm, um, feeling a bit insecure about this dramatic turn in the story. Please review and let me know what you think – good or bad…. I'm okay with negative comments.

I just need to know if I should continue, or get them out of this fix and back on the more typical GSR road…

Thanks,

Kailynray


	14. Chapter 14

Thank you for all your reviews! The concensus seems to be to keep going and get them out of trouble!! So I will keep going. I have outlined the case, the evidence, and the prosecution and defense strategies.... It will take a few chapters to present all of it.

We can't have our favorite lovebirds locked up like jailbirds for too long! Or can we? Heh, heh...

**Chapter 14:**

A chair was pulled out from the table in the interrogation room. The detective motioned for the police officer to remove Grissom's handcuffs. Grissom rubbed his wrists and moved his arms to restore circulation. Resting his hands on the table in front of him, he looked at he detective expectantly.

"Mr. Grissom, I'm Detective Powers."

"Detective Powers, what would you like to know?" Grissom asked. Detective Powers eyes shifted from Grissom's face to his hands.

"How did you get those cuts on your hand?" Powers asked pointedly. Grissom looked down at his right hand. The strain of riding handcuffed in the car must have opened the wound on his hand again. It was oozing blood. Grissom knew that it looked suspicious. He could answer truthfully, but would that lead to more suspicions? He should ask for a lawyer, but he was curious about their case against him.

"You have probably already spoken to witnesses that have told you about my brief fight with Mark Jenson. My hand was cut when I hit him in the face. There were several witnesses and Mark was clearly alive after the incident."

Powers stared at Grissom, trying to gauge the veracity of this well-known criminalist. Sidle and others had mentioned the brief fight, so this was not news, but was there more to the story?

"What did you say to Mark after your fight?" Powers asked.

"I believe I told him to leave Sara alone."

"Did you make any threatening remarks to him?"

Grissom reflected before answering, "I assured him that he would regret it if he continued to harass Sara. Some might construe that as a threat, I intended it as a warning that we would file a complaint against him with the department."

"What happened after that?" Powers asked. The interrogation continued, asking more and more detailed questions about his whereabouts and activities through the night. Grissom answered truthfully, but withheld unnecessary details about his personal relationship with Sara. He was sure there was enough evidence of their intimate activities without him mentioning them.

The detectives were disappointed with the results of the interview. The testimonies of their two suspects were virtually identical, and there was little to no time for the crime to have been committed – unless they were both lying.

Jim Brass met with Archie in the audio-visual lab. Much of Grissom's testimony revolved around the digital reconstruction of the crime scene.

"Unfortunately, the photos that these reconstructions were based on were taken by Dr. Grissom," Archie explained, "While I can recreate the crime scene, without establishing the chain of evidence regarding the photographs, the reconstruction is inadmissible. I'm sorry sir, I'm afraid I can't help you."

"That's okay Archie, I figured that would be a problem. I'll have to see if some of his other evidence can be reprocessed." Brass walked out of AV and down to trace. Perhaps they could offer something worth testifying about.

Dennis Franks handed out the assignments to his night shift CSIs. He would be alone in the lab, on call if anything more should come in. That suited him fine, because he wanted to be free to talk to a few people around the building. His first stop was in the morgue. He found Dr. Collins in his office, processing paperwork.

"Dr. Collins, do you have a minute?" Dr. Collins looked up and nodded.

"Franks, what brings you to the morgue – do you have another body for me to post?"

"No, I need some advice. You told me that Sara's abrupt departure from the scene the other night was based on stress – too many new challenges too quickly. But what was really going on? In light of this new situation, I don't know what to think anymore." Dr. Collins pushed his paperwork aside, something more was bothering this man, and it deserved his full attention.

"I'm not at liberty to tell you the whole story. But I can assure you that the two events are not related."

"How can you be certain?" Franks asked.

"The autopsy results. Sara is a tall woman, but Mark Jenson was at least 4 inches taller than her. The wounds inflicted on his neck required great strength and height. Grissom looks like he would have the strength, but he's not much taller than Sara, maybe an inch or two. If Mark was standing up, then neither of them would have been able to achieve the angle of the wound track."

"What if he wasn't standing? He could have been forced to his knees or even passed out on the ground at the time."

"That occurred to me as well. The wound could have been inflicted with him on his knees, but neither his clothes nor his body indicate that he was kneeling. The knees of his pants were relatively clean, and there were no bruises of abrasions on his legs."

"Are there any other discrepancies between the autopsy and day shift's version of the events?"

"There was an oily substance in Mark's hair making it matted on the back of his head. His hands also had this substance on them. It was sent to trace, but there was nothing at the scene to account for this."

Dennis Franks ran his fingers through his graying hair. He had suspected that something was off on the investigation, but he didn't realize how far off. Unfortunately, any evidence he handled would be inadmissible in court, Sara was a member of his team. How could he help straighten this out?

"Dr. Collins, thank you for this information. I'm not sure what I can do with it, but it confirms my suspicions that there is someone else out there who committed this murder." The two men shook hands and returned to work, each considering how to solve this crime without compromising the evidence.

Warrick arrived in San Francisco late Monday night. He called Brass to check in and was given the phone number for an attorney. He tossed his duffle in the back of his rental car and then dialed the number.

"Clifford Brown."

Warrick introduced himself, "Mr. Brown, my name is Warrick Brown, and I believe we have more in common than our last names. I hear you are defending one of the suspects in the Mark Jenson murder?"

"Yes, I am the defense counsel for Sara Sidle. Jim Brass mentioned that you would be coming to San Francisco, and that we might want to coordinate efforts."

"Do you know who is representing Dr. Grissom?"

"I haven't heard yet. Dr. Collins hired me to represent Sara. He and I are old friends. If they are charged together, I'd be willing to represent both."

"I don't know what Griss will want. For now, can we meet and go over the evidence in the case? Have they released anything to you yet?"

"Discovery is being held in the morning at 8 o'clock. I should have a list of items in evidence and test results at that time. If you'd like to meet before that, I could fill you in on what Sara has told me about the evening, then after court we could look at the evidence together."

"That sounds good. Where and when would you like to meet?" They exchanged contact information and set up a meeting for early the following morning.

Warrick found a motel near the police department and court house and went to bed. Several hours later, still unable to sleep, he got dressed and began thinking through what Jim had told him about the case. He looked up Shannon's Bar and Grill in the phonebook and drove to the neighborhood. The crime scene tape was still in place. It stretched from the main entrance to the restaurant, down the block about twenty feet. From behind the tape, he couldn't see any sort of blood pool or other evidence pointing to the actual location of the crime.

Warrick walked slowly around the block, using his flashlight to look for clues. About twenty feet beyond the crime scene tape an alley opened, running down the side of the restaurant. A banged up dumpster with its top flipped up was located in the entryway. He ran his flashlight along the base of the dumpster. It had been recently moved – there were wheel tracks in the mucky surface of the alley. He'd have to find out when the usual trash pickups occurred. He used his flashlight to highlight the wall around the dumpster. He could make out a slight stain pattern against the brick surface. It could be blood cast off, or it could be the fluid from a sloppily thrown sack of garbage. Only tests in the lab would tell. He made a quick sketch in his notebook of the entrance to the restaurant, the landscaping, the sidewalk, the entrance to the alley, the dumpster, and the stain. If he were in Vegas, he would have called for the crime scene tape to have been extended beyond the alleyway. Unfortunately, it wasn't his scene. All he could do was make observations and hope that he could convince someone to go back and collect more evidence.

Franks used the computer in his office to look up Mark Jenson's personnel records. He had been employed by SFPD for ten years, first as a police officer, then a detective, and most recently as a CSI. His background was in law enforcement, not science. Over the years there had been a number of complaints filed against him – all by women on the force. In each case the charges were dismissed when the female officer transferred. He had no criminal charges or disciplinary actions against him. Franks moved his research to other databases available to him. There had been two requests for restraining orders against Jenson in recent years. The first had been withdrawn when the applicant moved out of state. The second was still pending. He probed further, looking for names, for any connections to the case. The applicant's name was Rebecca Niles, a nurse at the senior care facility located about a mile from Shannon's Bar and Grill. He kept searching the computer, hoping to find the missing link that would reveal the identity of the real murderer.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15:**

Warrick returned to his hotel reviewing the scene in his mind as he drove. The San Francisco police were missing some major clues. Back in his room he called Jim Brass to fill him in on his progress.

"Brass."

"Hey, Captain, Warrick here. Something's definitely not right with this investigation."

"What do you mean?"

"I drove by the supposed crime scene tonight…"

Jim interrupted, "Warrick I hope you didn't do anything foolish, it's not our jurisdiction remember?"

"Calm down Captain, I stayed outside the tape…. Anyway, I don't think they have the right scene. There's no blood, either pool or splatter, there's no sign of any disturbance other than a bit of broken glass."

"So you think it was a body dump?"

"Well, there's an alley about 20 or so feet away that looks like it has been disturbed recently. A dumpster has been moved, there's some sort of stain on the wall, could be blood. It's hard to tell in the dark, but I don't have a good feeling about this. I can't handle evidence, and the San Francisco PD is happy with their arrest. How do I get them to look again?"

"You've contacted Clifford Brown?"

"Yes. We're meeting in a few hours to go over the evidence. But I'm not sure what he can do either."

"Grissom received a call from a Collins, I believe it was a _Doctor_ Collins, when we were outside the court room this morning – yesterday morning…. I don't know who he is, but he must be inside SFPD because he knew they would be looking for Grissom long before the warrant was issued. See if you can find out who he is. Grissom may have a friend in the department…."

"Okay, I'll check out the department on their website tonight and see if I can find anyone by that name. And don't worry; I'll be careful how I contact him… I know how to play my cards close to my chest…"

"Be sure you do, Warrick, it is Gil's life we're gambling with here…"

The phone call ended and Warrick pulled out his laptop to begin his search.

Dennis Franks had a short list of names, but he also had a problem. How could he get the information to the day shift crew without their viewing it as interference? He dreaded the idea of the proverbial anonymous tip. He wanted something a bit more professional. Unfortunately, the longer he waited, the colder the trail would become. Shaking his head with distaste at what he was about to do, he grabbed his list of names and his jacket. He told the receptionist that he was taking a dinner break, and he headed out of the lab. He drove around for awhile, mentally preparing, ending up in a neighborhood near the bar. He knew they would trace the call, and it would appear more authentic if it came from near the scene. He found a pay phone about a block away. Looking around for witnesses, he parked his car, quickly walked to the phone, and picked up the receiver.

"No," he said, slamming the phone back down, "I can't do it this way…"

Brass reviewed his witness list. It was pitiful. Sanders could offer additional DNA evidence. Trace could testify to the chemicals coursing through the suspects veins as well as the fibers and other minute elements found at the scene. The fingerprint tech could attest to the fingerprint identification of the suspects based on matches to the murder weapons and other instruments of abuse found in the home. Dr. Robbins could be recalled to go into further details about the bruising and injuries, perhaps coming close to Grissom's reconstruction of the crime. The DA would be disappointed, but it was the best he could do. Brass had been encouraged by his conversation with Warrick. Perhaps Grissom would be cleared in time to testify on Wednesday – if they could limp along until then.

Franks returned to his car, pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, and dialed Gutierrez. 'This is not a good way to make friends,' he grimaced, knowing he was about to wake-up his colleague.

"Franks, you better have a good reason for calling," growled a sleepy Gutierrez.

"Sorry to wake you, but I think it's important. I know I'm hands off, but how sure are you of the suspects in the Jenson case?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I guess I'm not convinced that they did it, something just doesn't feel right."

"Franks, you're talking like a rookie. We don't base our work on feelings, we look at the evidence."

"Well, what evidence are you following then? All I've heard about has been circumstantial. You need to look deeper…"

"Are you lecturing me now?" Gutierrez sneered, "I think I'd rather be sleeping."

Franks back-peddled, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound like that, but I'm concerned about this one. Have you looked into Mark's background? Just take a look at his personnel file and his legal battles. He's not as clean cut as the department would like to portray. I think there might be a lot of folks out there who wanted to see him hurt."

Gutierrez sighed, "If I promise to take a look, will you hang up?"

"Yes."

"Consider it done. Goodnight." Gutierrez hung up, not waiting for a reply.

Warrick found three people named Collins listed on the SFPD website – one was a patrol officer, a second worked in the lab, and the third was the lead coroner. 'Doctor Collins,' Warrick thought, 'Brass thought he was a doctor…. And didn't Grissom start out in the coroner's office in Los Angeles?' Warrick was sure he was on to something. He'd check in the morning to see if he could find a way of talking with the coroner in private. A coroner might have access to all sorts of useful evidence. Warrick smiled. He was beginning to like the direction this investigation was heading. He set his alarm to wake him in a couple of hours, and then went to bed. He hoped Grissom and his girl were safe. A night in lock up wouldn't be enjoyable for either of them, of that he was certain.

Sara leaned against the wall, watching the other women in the cell. One bench was occupied by a young woman sleeping off some sort of high. A teenager, her face and arms covered in bruises, cowered in the far corner. She didn't look like a suspect; she looked more like a victim. Sara decided to keep a protective eye on her. Two scantily dressed women joked with guards. At least they were in a good mood. Sara slid down the wall and stretched her long legs out on the floor. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes. She didn't plan on sleeping – this would not be the place to have one of her nightmares. She wondered how Grissom was faring in the men's holding cell. His manners, vocabulary, and speech patterns would separate him from the other inmates, just as he was isolated from most of the world's population. She knew he could take care of himself. She smiled, he was probably checking out the spiders and other bugs in the corners.

"What are you smiling about, bitch?" asked one of the hookers as she kicked Sara's legs out of her way.

Sara stood up, leaning into the woman's face, "Nothing, bitch. Mind your own business – Oh, I guess that's why you're here. Your pimp get tired of watching out for you?" The woman backed off, realizing Sara wasn't as easy a target as she seemed.

Grissom's cell held only one other occupant – a loud drunk talking in his sleep on the far bunk. Grissom examined the fresh bandage on his hand. The interrogation hadn't been too bad. It didn't seem like they had much to go on. He and Sara had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He would ask for an attorney in the morning, so that he could find out more about the case against him. He was exhausted. He had had almost no sleep in the last few days. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. He hoped this nightmare would be over soon and he could get on with his life. Would the University still want him to teach? He'd have to find a way to fully clear his name.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16:**

They woke Grissom before dawn, taking him from his cell to a processing room.

"You're being arraigned this morning. We have your clothes here for you to change back into, then we'll get you some breakfast and escort you to the court room." Grissom quickly changed into his suit. The guards noticed the bruises and scratches on his torso and arms were healing. He had been thoroughly photographed when he had been processed for intake the night before. After he finished dressing, they took him to another room, where he was given an egg, a piece of toast, and a container of orange juice. It was more than Grissom often got in the middle of shift. They placed him in handcuffs and leg restraints and then walked him to the waiting area outside the courtroom.

Sara was taken through the same routine. The guards recognized her from her work with the department. They smirked as they watched her change. Rumor had it that she was intimate with the middle aged CSI from Vegas. They couldn't fault the man; she was easy on the eyes. They also couldn't resist tormenting her.

"Your boyfriend's being arraigned this morning too. From what I've heard, he's covered in scratches and bruises. What happened? Did your little threesome with Mark get out of hand?" Sara glared at him and then finished dressing. Without another word they fastened her handcuffs, led her to breakfast, and then to the women's holding area outside the courtroom.

Warrick arrived at the courthouse early in hopes that Clifford Brown had chosen to do the same. They had exchanged descriptions and arranged a place to meet the night before. He was in luck. There was an older gentleman waiting at the designated spot. Clifford rose and extended his hand as Warrick approached.

"Warrick Brown, it's nice to meet you," he began.

Warrick smiled, "Likewise Mr. Brown." They both laughed.

"This could be awkward," the older gentlemen said, "how about if we stick with first names?" Warrick nodded his agreement.

"Clifford, I did a little exploring last night, and I don't think the police have examined the right crime scene."

"What do you mean, Warrick? They searched the area where they found the body."

"Yes, but the body isn't always found at the primary crime scene. Sometimes it is moved to conceal evidence or point the finger at another suspect. In this case it looks like they took advantage of the previous night's fight location."

"Where do you think the murder took place then?"

"In a nearby alley. There are signs that the region has been disturbed, and there may be blood splatter on the alley wall. I won't know for sure unless the stains are tested." The attorney nodded while processing Warrick's information.

"How do we go about getting the police to reexamine the scene?" Warrick asked.

"I'm not sure, but we'll make it happen somehow. Both Sara and Dr. Grissom are being arraigned today. I have prepared a motion for discovery for both parties so that we can begin evaluating the evidence that is being used against them."

"You mentioned yesterday that you were being retained by a Dr. Collins. It didn't occur to me until early this morning, when Brass mentioned a phone call to Grissom yesterday from a Collins. Are you referring to the SF Coroner?"

"Yes, he and I went to school together at Stanford many years ago. Sara used to work for him in the coroner's office. I don't know how he knows Dr. Grissom, but I'm sure it would be the same man – Dr. Robert Collins."

"I'd like to talk with him as soon as possible. I think he might be able to help up understand this case better."

"I'll call and see if we can meet with him after we finish in court today. Would you like to talk with him before examining the prosecutions evidence?"

"Yes, if possible, it might give me a better perspective for looking at it."

"I'll make the call now. We should probably head to the court room, they should be starting soon."

"All Rise. The Court is now in session, the honorable Judge Mercer presiding."

"Please be seated. What do we have on the docket today?" The bailiff presented the first case title and Judge Mercer began to hear the charges and requests placed before him. An hour into the morning they finally arrived at the state of California vs. Grissom and Sidle. Grissom and Sidle were brought in and faced the judge one at a time.

"What are the charges being brought today?"

"First degree murder, in the slaying of Mark Jenson."

"And how do you plead?" the Judge asked Dr. Grissom.

"Not guilty, your honor."

"And concerns regarding bail?"

"Your honor," began the assistant DA, "this is a high profile case, since the victim was a member of the police department. Dr. Grissom was apprehended in Nevada following a brief search. While he is a respected member of the law enforcement community we still feel he is a flight risk. We asked that the bail be set high."

"Very well, bail will be set at 1 million dollars."

The proceedings continued. Sara was charged as an accessory and her bail was set at a half a million dollars. The Judge was about to conclude the matter when Clifford Brown addressed the bench.

"Your honor, my name is Clifford Brown, and I have been retained as defense counsel in this case. I would like to file a motion to request prosecutorial disclosure of their interviews and evidence regarding this matter. I would like to request that this disclosure be made in a timely manner, so that the defense may examine it as soon as possible."

"Any objections?" Judge Mercer addressed the ADA.

"None, your honor, we will begin preparing our reports for disclosure immediately."

"Very well, I would like to see the process completed by the end of the day today." Grissom and Sidle were led out of the court room. Grissom considered how to make arrangements for bail to be paid for both himself and for Sara.

"Warrick, it will be awhile before they are released. Let's go find Collins and see what he can tell us," said Clifford. They made their way out of the court house and back to the crime lab. Dr. Collins was completing an autopsy, so they waited in his office for his return.

The Sullivan trial was in recess for the day. They were scheduled to begin promptly at 9:00am on Wednesday morning. Brass met with the DA to go over the additional witnesses that he had gathered.

"The case might not be quite as strong, but I still think it will be a slam dunk,"

Brass concluded.

"Yes," the DA concurred, "there is so much evidence tying these three to the murder, it should not be difficult garnering a conviction. Any word on Grissom's status?"

"He was to be arraigned today. I sent Warrick Brown to San Francisco to reevaluate the evidence in the case. He believes that they have the wrong crime scene, and that Grissom is being used to cover someone else's tracks. He's working with the defense attorney to get the police to look for additional evidence. It's a difficult thing to sell, but Warrick is determined. He is going to call me when he knows more."

"At least there's hope. Please keep me posted." Brass's phone buzzed, so he excused himself to answer it.

"Brass."

"Is this James Brass of the Las Vegas Crime Lab?"

"Yes, how may I help you?"

"I'm calling from San Francisco, regarding a Dr. Grissom."

"Yes?"

"Well, I regret to inform you that we at the University feel obligated to cancel our contract with Dr. Grissom for this summer. We do not feel the recent turn of events and publicity will be good for the university."

"I assure you, Dr. Grissom is innocent of this charge, and his name will be cleared," Brass said.

"Well, be that as it may, his name will not be cleared of his romantic involvement with a former student. We do not want to promote this sort of image for our campus community. Please express our best wishes to Dr. Grissom, but we will not need his services as an instructor."

"It will be your loss, but I will pass the information along," Brass sighed. He knew that this would devastate his friend perhaps even more than the charges he faced in the criminal court.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17:

Xavier Gutierrez remembered his midnight promise to Dennis Franks. He had been bothered by his team's lack of real evidence in the murder of Mark Jenson. Perhaps it was time for him to become more directly involved. He drew the case file from the stack of open cases and began his review. Less than an hour later he was sure they had made a mistake, unfortunately, he could not ask the DA to withdraw the charges without having something more concrete to offer than the instincts of two veteran CSI's. He started with the computer search into Mark Jenson himself. He was appalled at Mark's track record. So many complaints filed and yet no disciplinary action. Mark must have had a friend in the upper ranks. He would have Neil follow up on the two women who filed restraining orders. Next he took a closer look at the Coroner's report. He noted the lack of analysis of the wound track and the lack of a follow-up report on the trace oil found on the victim and his clothes. Jaime could look into those discrepancies. 'I need to take another look at the crime scene,' he decided, 'there are too many unanswered questions.' He grabbed the case file and walked to the meeting room to hand out the mornings assignments. Gutierrez was determined to have some answers by the end of the day.

Dr. Collins finished his autopsy, filed his report, showered, and returned to his office. Warrick and Clifford Brown were waiting for him. After the two old friends greeted one another, Warrick stood and extended his hand as Clifford introduced him.

"Robert, this is Warrick Brown, a CSI associate of Dr. Grissom. He has come out to help with the analysis of evidence in this case."

Collins shook Warrick's hand and replied, "Warrick, it is nice to meet you, I think I have some information that will help you." Collins proceeded to tell the two men about the angle and depth of the wound pointing to a taller killer. He also mentioned the oily substance and the injuries sustained by the victim as he was restrained.

Warrick shared, "That substance might be from the alley near the bar. I looked at the supposed crime scene and it looked too bare. About ten yards away there's an alley that has more promise as the actual murder scene. There is some sort of substance on the ground, perhaps the liquid from the dumpster, perhaps oil from cars parking there over the years. There's some sort of splatter on the wall behind the dumpster as well."

"Let me pass that information along to Gutierrez. Maybe he can look at the scene again." Collins dialed Gutierrez's cell phone.

"Gutierrez."

"Xavier, Collins here. You remember that substance that we found on Mark's body and clothes?"

"Yes, I have Jaime following up on that today."

"Well, have her look at the alley near the bar. I don't have the trace results yet, but I think there is something similar near the dumpster in that alley."

"I'm at the scene now. I'll take a look myself. I didn't know you were a frequenter of Shannon's Rob."

"I don't go there often, partly because of the smell of that alley… I've smelled a lot of decomp over the years, but I don't like the idea of eating around that much filth."

Gutierrez laughed, "I didn't think there would be anything that would turn your stomach. I may have to rethink eating there myself!"

"Please check out the scene."

"Will do. I know you're close to Sara, I'm hoping that she's not involved. I'm beginning to question our initial results myself." The ended the conversation and Collins related the assurance from Gutierrez.

"Warrick, let's see if we can look at the other evidence now…"

Grissom needed $150,000 cash and 1.5 million in assests to post bail for both of them. He also needed a permanent address within the state to list as their residence during the investigation. Sara's apartment had not yet been released, and a hotel room was not considered stable enough. Sara did not have any significant financial resources, so she was returned to the holding cell to await the outcome of Grissom's search.

"Do you have a TTY that I can use?" he asked the clerk.

"Yes, please wait and I will have an officer escort you to it." Grissom knew that his parents had owned a vacation home on the coast between LA and San Francisco. He didn't know if his mother still held the deed, or if it had been sold. He also knew he had plenty of equity in his home in Vegas to swing a loan for $150,000. If he could identify the resources, the bail bond could be generated so that he and Sara would at least be temporarily free. After about a 20 minute wait the officer arrived and showed Grissom to a study carrel with a TTY device. He quickly entered the information to place a credit card call to his mother's home in Las Vegas.

"_Hello. Who is calling?" _Mrs. Grissom answered.

"_Hi Mom, it's Gil," _Grissom typed.

"_Gilbert! How nice to hear from you! It's been awhile you know," _she greeted him.

"_I know, Mom. I'm sorry I don't call more, you know how busy I am these days."_

"_You've always kept busy, son. So what do I own the pleasure of this call? Are you finally bringing some lucky girl to meet me? Carl called and told me he had seen you with someone…"_

"_Leave it to Carl to keep you informed! Actually, I am seeing someone, but I won't be able to introduce you for awhile yet, but that's not why I am calling."_

"_Yes?"_

"_I, we, ran into some legal trouble here in California and I wondered if you still own the beach house?"_

"_Yes, I still have the old place. Too many good memories to part with it. It's been years since I have visited though. Carl and his family watch over it for me. Why do you ask?"_

"_This is hard for me to say. I don't want you to worry…"_

"_Go ahead, I'm sitting down."_

"_Would it be possible to use it to secure a bond? I've been charged with murder and I need it to make bail. I, we, may need to stay there for a few days until this is all sorted out."_

"_Gilbert, you've been charged with murder? Those are words I never thought I'd read. You're innocent I presume?"_

"_Of course. We just need some time to let the investigators find the real murderer."_

"_We?"_

"_My girlfriend Sara and I."_

"_You may use the house for bail, you may even stay there. But I will be coming out to see you so that we can talk about what is happening in your life right now. I don't like what I am hearing. Carl said you were quite affectionate towards this young lady. I hope she's not a bad influence on you."_

"_She's not, Mom, don't worry. This is all just a misunderstanding. We were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Thank you for the use of the house. Let me know when your flight is scheduled to arrive and I will send someone for you. I don't think the courts would like for me to be seen at the airport right now."_

"_Gilbert, take care of yourself and your girlfriend. I raised you to be a responsible man and I am so proud of you and all that you have done with your life. When Carl told me about your visit, I hoped it meant you were finally getting ready to settle down and start a family."_

"_Mom! Sara and I just met. Please no pressure. Particularly if you come to California. I know you will like Sara, but any talk like that is really premature."_

"_Okay, calm down. I won't embarrass you – or her. A Mom can hope can't she? I'd like to have some grandchildren before I'm too old to enjoy them."_

"_Mom, thank you for everything. I have to go now. I will see you when you get to the house. Don't worry. We'll be okay."_

"_I'll see you soon. And Gilbert, I love you!"_

"_I love you too, Mom."_

Grissom returned to the bail clerk and began the process of posting a bond for 1.5 million dollars. In a few hours he and Sara would be able to leave the jail. He knew that Jim would be helping them in whatever way he could. The sheriff had mentioned sending one of his CSI's. He trusted that between Dr. Collins and his CSI they would find the truth. At least if they were free on bail they could discuss the case and evaluate the evidence for themselves.


	18. Chapter 18

Thank you for your patience in waiting for this chapter. It is fairly short, but I will be working on the next chapter tomorrow, so I hope to have another update then.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

**Chapter 18:**

Gutierrez called for additional CSIs to join him outside Shannon's. He extended the crime scene tape to include the alley near the bar. While he waited for his team to arrive he began taking photographs of the alley and dumpster. When his CSIs pulled up he was ready for them to begin processing the new scene. They took samples of the slimy matter on the ground in the alley. After carefully photographing and taking evidence from the wheels of the dumpster, they moved the dumpster further onto the sidewalk so that they could look behind and under it.

One CSI was assigned to search the interior of the dumpster, another searched the outside, and Gutierrez continued with the surrounding area. On the backside of the dumpster they discovered several fingerprints in blood, as well as some bloody smears. They photographed the fingerprints and smears, took samples for DNA testing and then processed the rest of the surface for additional evidence.

Removing the dumpster from the alley revealed a dark pool and a patch of dark splatter on the wall. Both tested positive for human blood. They took photographs and samples to test in the lab. They discovered a leather glove with one finger sliced and bloody. They also found a demin jacket with blood splatter covering the left arm and gloved handprints in blood on the front. There was a void in the blood splatter on the arm of the jacket in the shape of a hand. They finished processing the scene and then returned to the lab to study their evidence.

Mrs. Grissom contacted her attorney regarding using the beach house for a bail bond. She then called her travel agent to purchase a ticket to Los Angeles for that evening. She packed enough for several days since she didn't know how long she would be gone. She made arrangements for the care of her house and yard in her absence and she scheduled a cab to take her to the airport. Once things were set in motion, she made herself some tea and settled on the living room sofa to worry about her only son.

The oily substance found on the victim turned out to be a wild mixture of substances: motor oil, vegetable grease, animal fat, decayed animal and vegetable matter, beer residue and a myriad of other deposits – garbage. The wound track was calculated and showed that if Mark was standing at the time of the attack, the attacker had to be between 6' 2" and 6' 4". The torque placed on the victim's right arm, and the angle created when the injuries occurred supported this height analysis. Jamie finished her review of the trace and autopsy reports and went to find Neil. She found him in the computer lab checking on the complaints filed against Mark – searching for names and addresses of victim's and their associates.

"Anything new?" he asked as she walked up behind him.

"Yeah, it looks like Mark took a bath in garbage before he died," she answered.

Neil looked over his shoulder at her before responding, "Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. Based on the nature of these complaints against him, the garbage heap was an appropriate place for him. If even half of these complaints were true, the guy was a real piece of work. Did you ever work with him?"

"No, it seems I've been lucky."

"Yeah, so have I. I'm going to take this list to the detectives. Maybe they'll find a lead when they interrogate them."

"It seems like Sara and Dr. Grissom are innocent," Jamie said.

Neil nodded, "The only thing Dr. Grissom is guilty of is defending Sara from a dirty cop. I hope Gutierrez talks to the DA soon. We really blew it on this one…"

"Do you think Sara will be able to continue working here? I know I'd have a hard time forgiving the department for this," Jamie asked.

"I hope so. When we attended the forensic academy lectures I was impressed by her knowledge of scientific investigations. It would be a shame to lose her over this misunderstanding."

"Being falsely accused, interrogated, and arrested is a bit more than a misunderstanding…"


	19. Chapter 19

Sorry for the delay.

My coursework is beginning to have a few critical deadlines, so I have to change my writing style from entertainment to professional/academic mode.

If only I were writing Grissom's lectures, then there wouldn't be such a great chasm to bridge, but since the University withdrew their offer, why would I need to write lectures? Hmmm… Alas life must go on….

(But can a little fanfiction really hurt ones ability to analyze multimodal linguistic phenomena?)

Thank you for your reviews. I can be having a horrible day (typical at work recently), but when I get home and see your reviews it brightens my spirit. Thank you!

**Chapter 19:**

By late morning all of the paperwork was in order and bail had been paid. Grissom received some of his belonging, such as his identification, credit cards and cash, and was allowed to leave. The publicity following the death of their CSI had created a crowd of reporters outside the police station, so Grissom was shown to a back exit to the building. A short while later Sara was also led out the rear door. Oblivious to the smirks of their police escorts, Grissom drew Sara into a crushing hug.

"How are you holding up?" he asked, worried that a night in jail on top of her earlier break down would prove too much.

Sara buried her face against his neck and shoulder, breathing in his scent. "I'm fine now," she whispered, "Let's get out of here." Grissom nodded and stepped back. Taking Sara's hand in his, he followed the route indicated by the officers to a side street where they could hail a cab. Sara's car had been impounded and was being held until it could be searched. They flagged down a cab and requested a ride to a nearby rental car agency. Grissom rented a car and they were quickly on their way south, heading out of San Francisco.

"Where are we going?" Sara asked.

Grissom reached across the center console and held Sara's hand again. "My parents own a beach house near Cambria. I figured we needed someplace off the beaten path to recover from this. We also need to stop someplace and buy a few basics – including a cell phone so that I can contact Jim Brass and find out what's going on."

Sara nodded, "That sounds good. I probably won't be needed at work for awhile." Grissom glanced abruptly at Sara, worried that she was seriously losing touch with the situation when he saw her pursed mouth break into a grin.

"Yeah, you're probably right," he agreed, "I imagine being charged with murder will put a damper on both of our work schedules."

They rode in silence as Grissom negotiated the busy San Franciscan streets, heading towards the outskirts of town. They stopped at a super center and bought a few basics – clothes, toiletries, a disposable cell phone, snack foods and beverages. Grissom took a few moments to activate the cell phone and then he called Carl about the house.

"Hello?"

"Carl, it's Gil Grissom. Mom told me that you were watching over the beach house for her…."

"Yes, Gil. Your Mom called me a little while ago to ask me to ready the place for you. It is being managed by a local realty company. They rent it to select tourists during the summer season. Fortunately, it is vacant right now. I called them and asked them to send a cleaning service over to refresh the place. They are expecting you this afternoon."

"That's great. Thank you for helping us out like this."

"Gil, your Mom didn't give me any details… I thought you were headed back to Las Vegas yesterday. Did something happen to change your plans?"

"Carl, I'll call you once we are settled in. It is a long story and I think we need to get back on the road." Carl gave him the address of the rental company and they ended their call. Grissom handed Sara the keys to the car and headed to the passenger side.

"Do you mind driving? I'd like to place a few more calls and we have a four hour drive ahead of us…"

"No problem, as long as you help keep me awake and give me directions once we get there."

Gutierrez and his team began processing the new evidence from the scene. It would take a few days for the DNA evidence to yield results and they had several samples to process. They had blood samples from the glove, jacket, dumpster, and wall. They had hair and epithelial samples from the glove and jacket. That also had fingerprints from the dumpster. They sticky substance on they alleyway floor was dropped off at trace to be compared to the sample from Mark's body. The blood splatter and void on the sleeve of the jacket was compared to the void on Mark's shirt and the size of Mark's left hand. They took each piece of evidence gathered and examined it carefully. Their earlier mistakes had cost them twenty four hours of time when they should have been tracking down the murderer. Gutierrez met with Neil and Jaime and heard the reports of their findings. He then contacted the detectives to see how their interviews were going.

The two Browns left the morgue and walked to the crime lab. They were told that they could examine the initial evidence and reports. When they arrived, they noticed that the lab was hopping with activity. Gutierrez greeted them graciously and showed them into his office.

"Gentlemen, I usually am reluctant to speak with the defense counsel, but in this case, I feel the obligation of both the discovery notice and professional courtesy."

Attorney Brown took the lead, "We appreciate your cooperation. I'm sure you will find that my clients are completely innocent and these charges are groundless. Allow me to introduce Warrick Brown, CSI, Level 2. He's helping me analyze the evidence." Gutierrez shook Warrick's hand and asked both men to sit. They spent the next half hour reviewing the current evidence in the case. Warrick also asked to be allowed to observe the processing of the new evidence, so that he could begin his own narrative of the events based on all of the evidence uncovered. After establishing clear guidelines, Gutierrez agreed.

The Sullivan trial had reconvened promptly at 9:00 in the morning. The prosecution introduced the meticulously reexamined evidence. Techs that normally stayed in the lab found themselves on the witness stand. Fortunately, the most troubling testimony was left to Dr. Robbins. He was called back to the stand to reveal more details about the child's torture and the evidence left on her body linking her injuries to the three defendants. Based on his own photographs of the body and spectral analysis of the patterns of sub-dermal bruises, he constructed his own version of Grissom's reenactment of the crime. Witness after witness tightened the web of evidence encircling the three murderers.

"Brass."

"Jim, it's Gil."

"Gil, I'm glad you called. Where are you? What's happening?"

"We just posted bail, so we're headed to my mother's vacation home. We haven't heard any details yet. I will be calling the attorney this afternoon, once we are settled."

"Have you seen Warrick? He flew down last night to help out. When he called this morning he said they had the wrong primary crime scene. He was going to talk to Dr. Collins to see if he could influence the investigators to go back to look for additional evidence."

"Warrick's here? I saw the attorney, but I didn't notice Warrick with him. I'm glad he's the one you sent. He's thorough and professionally discrete."  
"He'll watch his tongue when he gets back, if that's what you mean. And he's a smart investigator."

"Jim, thank you for your support in this. It means a lot to me. How's the trial going?"

"Al reconstructed much of your testimony from his autopsy files. Fortunately, he was with you when you took the photos of the bruising and injuries. The Techs have also stepped up. I think we'll build a strong case. You worry about yourself and Sara, I'm confident we'll get a conviction."

"Thanks Jim. I'll call you when we get settled."

Grissom shared what he had learned with Sara. Knowing Warrick was reviewing the evidence helped him to relax. The more miles that separated them from jail, the more they were able to calm down. A couple of hours south of San Francisco, they stopped at a beach side restaurant for lunch. Once they had placed their orders, Grissom reached across the table and took both of Sara's hands in his. Gazing into her eyes, he sensed her exhaustion and uncertainty.

"Sara, I'm sorry about all of this. I should have just walked away."

"Gil, it's not your fault. All you did was defend yourself and me. I don't usually say this about a victim, but Mark brought this upon himself."

"That concept bothers me. Does anyone deserve to be murdered? He may have acted like a complete jerk, but someone still needs to be held accountable."

"What about Mark being 'held accountable' for his actions? Maybe if someone had confronted him about his criminal harassment of women he would still be alive…"

"Sara, I think you're right. Based on the problems you had with him when you worked together, I would have fired him. But it seems the victims were transferred or disciplined and he was left alone. There may be a lot of people out there with animosity towards him."

"We were the obvious ones to pin this on because of the fight, but my problems with Mark were petty. There are others out there who have been seriously hurt by him."

"I hope the San Francisco CSI realize their mistake. How are the shift supervisors?"

"Canyon protected Mark, so I don't think much of him. I haven't worked for Gutierrez, but he has a good reputation. And Franks? Even though he blew up at me, Franks is a good man. Between Warrick, Collins, and Franks they'll find a way to clear us. From what you've old me, Gutierrez has reexamined the scene."

Grissom nodded. Overall, he agreed with her conclusions, but why did she still look so upset? "Sara, other than the obvious, what's wrong?"

Sara looked at their joined hands, feeling the love radiating from his gently touch. She thought back to her night in jail, her confusion at the apartment when she realized the depths of Gil's feelings for her. She was so messed up – her family, her childhood, even her career. How could she let him throw away his career for her? It might be a cliché, but he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She wanted nothing more than to lose herself in him, but would that be fair to him? She was scared. Nothing good ever lasted. Didn't the last few days just prove that again? They had been so happy….

Sara lifted her eyes back to his, "I'm not sure. I've been so happy this week with you. But it started with me fleeing a crime scene in terror and ended with us being arrested. It doesn't seem like an auspicious beginning. I guess I'm afraid…"

Grissom was relieved when the food arrived before he could respond.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20:**

The detectives interviewed more than a dozen women. Many had moved on in their lives and were not interested in any further developments in the case. The detectives looked for connections – male friends or relatives that fit the height parameters of the murderer. This narrowed the list to about six suspects. Tracking down their locations took the rest of the night. In the morning they would begin interviewing, checking for alibis, taking the suspects' fingerprints for comparison. The courts were not willing to issue a blanket warrant for DNA evidence. The detectives would need a stronger link to the crime before that would be granted.

Back in the lab, Warrick watched as they photographed and examined the evidence. He would have to wait for the DNA and fingerprint evidence to be processed by the technicians, so he focused on the physical evidence recovered. Since his height more closely resembled the suspects than any of the investigators, they allowed him to participate in the reenactment of the crime.

They found a jacket similar to the one recovered for Warrick to wear. They loaded a dummy's neck with blood colored dye. Warrick was directed to twist the dummies right arm until they matched the angles of the victim's injuries. Based on the blood and void evidence on the jacket, Warrick wrapped his left arm around the dummy's chest to 'subdue him'. The CSIs handed Warrick a broken bottle neck similar to the murder weapon.

The only piece missing was the void on the sleeve. They twisted the dummy's left arm to match the void. In a struggle, it would have been possible for Mark to have scratched the murderer with his left hand because his hand print was partially off the wrist of the jacket. A CSI was sent to the morgue to track down the fingernail scrapings for additional DNA testing.

The scene was set for their blood splatter experiment. Pinning the dummy's now injured arm between his chest and the dummy's back, Warrick took the broken bottle and dragged the sharpened edge across the dummy's throat. Blood sprayed out falling on the arm of the jacket and the white sheet hung to collect the broader spray pattern. Warrick carefully removed the jacket and the CSI proceeded to photograph the experiment in order to compare it with the crime scene photos.

Jim Brass napped on the couch in his office after working what amounted to a 48 hour shift. He had not slept since the Sullivan trial began on Monday morning. Reprocessing the Sullivan evidence, tracking Grissom's status in California and running the night shift for the ongoing crime in Las Vegas had left him no time to sleep. Clearly too exhausted to drive safely, he tried to sleep with day shift's activities outside his door.

His mind had been racing and it wasn't ready to slow down, even if his body had already collapsed. It was a drag getting older. While he wasn't truly old by any means, he was no longer in the prime of his life either. He couldn't take these crazy hours like he could even a few years previous. He sighed as he realized sleep might be slow in coming.

One thing still bothered Brass, well one person really – Grissom. From Warrick's most recent report, the San Francisco CSIs were now investigating the true primary crime scene and had found a lot of evidence pointing away from Gil and Sara. This was good news. It would be only a matter of days before all charges would be dropped.

Unfortunately, the damage had been done with the University. Brass had still not told Gil of the change of plans for the summer. He couldn't bring himself to add any more pain to Gil's situation. He knew he couldn't influence the University of San Francisco, but there were other programs in the San Francisco area…. One of the oldest and most prestigious forensics programs in the country was across the Bay in Berkeley. Perhaps a phone call to the Dean would be in order. It was the least he could do for his friend.

As the waitress placed their plates on the table and refilled their drinks, Grissom's mind and heart churned. How should he respond to Sara's concerns? On one level, she was right. He had been in more trouble professionally in the last few months than he had even been before. He knew he was a bit of an anomaly at the lab and that he frustrated everyone with his obsessive attention to detail and his quirky way of dealing with people, but he had never been disciplined or arrested before! No, it wasn't fair to place the original suspension at Sara's feet; he had brought that on himself by overworking. On another level, he had never been happier in his life and that he could credit to Sara. So which was more important, personal or professional? This was too big of a debate for him to solve now. What should he say? Perhaps he could focus on her fear for now.

"Can I get you anything else?" the waitress asked politely.

Grissom checked with Sara and then smiled at the waitress, "No, we're fine for now, thank you." He watched until the waitress was out of earshot, and then turned back to Sara.

"Sara, you know I would never intentionally hurt you, right?"

Sara nodded, "I'm not afraid of you hurting me. I'm more afraid of myself, and of life in general. Anytime something good seems to start in my life, something awful happens, something beyond my control, and I am worse off than before."

Grissom nodded to acknowledge her statement and then let his mind wander. Now what should he say? She was afraid of fate? The whims of the gods, so to speak? His mind raced through the classic Greek tragedies and the role of fate. He shook his head again to clear his mind. He really needed to get a life if his first ideas for a conversation with a beautiful young woman were the ancient dramas of Greece!

Sara watched the wheels turn in Grissom's mind. She could tell that he was struggling to figure out what to say. She had grown used to his awkwardness when she brought up emotional concerns. It was part of his attraction for her. He wasn't perfect, he was human. Okay, maybe his face and body were somewhat godlike. She could see him cast as one of the Greek gods, perhaps an early middle aged, moderately muscular one…. Her lips pursed as she struggled not to snicker at the thought of him in one of their short tunics. She let her mind wander over characters of Greek mythology. Which would he be?

Grissom emerged from his literary digression and noticed that Sara's expression had changed. She was trying not to laugh about something. He was so confused. Wasn't she worried and afraid just a few moments ago? He couldn't help but return her grin as he accepted the whims of the female mind.

"Sara?"

"Yes, Gil?" she smiled.

He watched her for a few moments, taking time to form his words, "Um, what are you smiling about?"

Sara smiled and blushed, "I was watching you think and it reminded me of something, that's all. Nothing bad, I assure you."

Noticing her bright blush, he wasn't sure he was ready to hear any more details. So he returned to their earlier conversation.

"Sara, I know this week has been book-ended by tragedies; it's been like living in an ancient drama, where the Fates control our destiny." Her eyes opened wide at his analogy and he rushed on wanting to finish his thought, "When we met two months ago, it was through an innocent classroom lecture, one tied to both of our professional lives. The attraction was deepened to friendship by working together in the lab, sending time exploring San Francisco and Tomales Bay, and by phone conversations. Finally, our friendship became, well, what it is now, by needing one another, by being there for each other. I don't see anything inauspicious about that. Where we go from here is up to us, not fate. So, where do you want to go?"

"How about your Mom's beach house?" Sara smiled.

As Mrs. Grissom thought about staying at the beach house again, she realized she needed a few more supplies. She called her friend Carl to ask for another favor.

"Carl, it's Alicia." She waited while Carl connected his phone to the TTY unit.

_"Alicia, how are you doing?"_

_"I'm fine. I was able to find a flight leaving Vegas at 6 tonight."_

_"Thanks great. Gil called about two hours ago. They are on their way to the house now. I asked the rental agency to prepare the property," Carl typed._

_"Thank you. It will be strange to stay there again… I forgot to arrange for food to be delivered. I don't think the local grocery will be opened when I arrive."_

_"I can take care of that, I'll have them bring some basic supplies to the house – something for dinner and breakfast at least. Do you need a ride from the airport?"_

_"No, I've rented a car. I thought I might do some exploring while I'm in town."_

_"Make sure you stop by for a visit! Marj will not be pleased if you are this close and don't stop by!"_

_"Let me talk to Gil and find out what's happening with him. Then I can think about other things. Right now all I can think about is him being in jail last night! At least he wasn't in Vegas – where someone might have recognized him as a CSI. Carl, who what were your impressions of this girl in his life?"_

_"Sara? She is a beautiful young woman. Very young, maybe in her mid-twenties? She seemed genuinely interested in Gil and his life. I showed her some photos of him as a child, and she was fascinated with them."_

Mrs. Grissom was concerned and replied,_ "So young? What is Gil thinking? He's almost twice her age! How was he with her?"_

_"Very taken. I've never seen him that aware of anyone. They weren't there for long, but she made a good impression. I think she's just as bright as he is. You know how hard it has been for him to find someone to challenge him."_

_"Oh, Carl. I guess I'm being overprotective. He's a grown man, but I still worry about him."_

_"That's a parent's duty! Don't worry, he'll be fine."_

_"Thank you again, Carl. I'll see you and your beautiful family soon."_


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21:**

The detectives continued questioning the suspects. All but three of the men had verified alibis. They collected their fingerprints to compare with the prints at the scene. Other than the hundreds of innocuous prints on the dumpster, all of the prints had pointed to Grissom. The bloody prints had been entered into the database, but had not yielded any matches. The suspects' prints were sent to the print lab for processing and comparison.

The viscous substance on the ground by the dumpster matched the garbage residue on Mark's clothing and body. They were able to place him at the new crime scene. The initial DNA report confirmed that the blood pooled on the ground and the blood splatter on the wall matched Mark's DNA. The blood on the glove and the jacket yielded a mixed sample, Mark's and an unknown male. The male DNA was entered into their search database, but no matches resulted.

Warrick followed the print evidence to the print lab. While they compared the new prints, he asked to see the results from the murder weapon. He printed out Grissom's prints to compare to those on the bottle. They were indeed a match. As he analyzed them further, however, he realized that their orientation did not make sense. If Grissom had been holding the bottle neck after it had been broken, his hand would have been at the point of the break, not on the neck. Looking at the bottle as a whole, the prints indicated that he had been holding the bottle upright, carrying it perhaps. There were no discernable prints indicating that he held the neck of the bottle after it was broken.

Jim Brass smiled to himself as he hung up his phone. Now he would be able to get some sleep! Well, maybe after a short conversation with the Sheriff. He walked upstairs to see if he would be available. Fortunately, he was between appointments.

"Jim, you look awful! When was the last time you slept?" the Sheriff greeted him.

"Nice to see you again too, Brian! Let's just say it's been a long week."

"What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to fill you in on what is happening in California… And to ask you a favor."

"Okay, how's Gil doing?"

"He and his girlfriend have posted bail, and are waiting for new developments. Warrick Brown has been assisting the defense attorney. Apparently the initial investigation failed to locate the actual primary crime scene. Once they shifted locations, they were able to find more evidence, which is being processed now. Preliminary results point to a suspect a good 4 to 5 inches taller than Gil. The investigators are planning on requesting that the charges be dropped, but they want to have additional evidence first – so that there are no lingering questions about their innocence. It should only be a matter of days until they are both fully exonerated."

"That's great news! I hear your team came together for the Sullivan trial as well. You've outdone yourself this week, Jim."

"Thank you, sir. I do have an additional concern, however."

"Go ahead…"

"You have approved a two month leave of absence for Gill for the summer."

"Yes…" the Sheriff replied tentatively, wondering where this was going.

Jim smiled, "Would you consider lengthening it to three months?"

"Why? I thought the University had agreed to amend their request to cover only the first two months of the summer term."

"Well, actually, the University of San Francisco canceled their contract when they heard about Gil's current situation."

"Well, won't his exoneration change their mind?"

"Um, no, their objection was to the age and status of his girlfriend, not their arrest."

The Sheriff looked worried, "What do you mean? She's a legal adult, isn't she? I know Gil's a bit odd, but I don't see him being into kids."

"No, no, nothing like that. God, no. If anything, Gil is obsessed with protecting kids from abuse. No, their objection is that she was a former student of his – that they met in class and began a relationship while he was still her teacher."

The Sheriff smiled, "So Conrad was accurate in his earlier accusations?"

"Um, yes, it seems he was…" Brass admitted grinning, "Anyway, I knew Gil would be disappointed, so I called the Dean of the Forensics' program at UC Berkeley. And he is interested in having Gil teach three courses this summer: two in forensic entomology and one in field work."

"Jim, what do you have against letting Gil work at the lab this summer? Do you want more time working alone with Catherine or what?"

Brass blushed, "No, Catherine and Eddie are struggling enough as it is. I've had my fill of unstable relationships. Actually, Gil expressed that he enjoyed teaching and wanted to complete some research this summer. It's been a long time since he has shown interest in anything other than working at the lab 24/7. I think if we want him to stay working here for the long term we need to make this allowance – otherwise he's going to burn out in a few years and we'll lose him altogether."

"So the fact that he has a… How old is she anyway?"

"Mid-twenties."

"And Gil is around forty? Hmm… Anyway, the fact that he has this vivacious young woman out in San Francisco isn't influencing his thinking? I'm sure teaching is fascinating when you're sleeping with your star pupil."

"He assures me that they didn't start dating until after the course ended, but I'm sure it was a factor for him. Heck, even at my age I'd have been distracted by her attentiveness in class."

"You've met her then?"

"Yes, briefly. But we haven't spoken."

"Okay, back to this decision. Why should I allow him this summer fling? We're short handed as it is."

"One reason. He's the best. If we don't keep him happy and healthy, we'll lose him, either to another lab, or to burnout. He was already headed in that direction when I sent him to San Francisco in the first place."

"I'll have to think about this and let you know my decision."

"That's all I'm asking. Thanks!"

Grissom and Sara continued their drive south, pulling into the small town of Cambria in the late afternoon. They drove to the realty office to pick up the key, and then followed their directions to the house. Pulling up in the driveway brought back memories for Grissom. While the house looked smaller and the trees larger, it reminded him of family vacations when he was a child. The cheerful yellow board siding, with its ornate white trim placed it squarely in the late-Victorian style shared by most of the region. There was a small garden pathway leading to the front porch and entryway. There were two windows facing the driveway from the second story. The white lace curtains appeared fresh and airy through the closed windows. A rock walkway skirted around the side of the house. The faint tangy smell the ocean and the rush of the waves in the distance caught their recently released senses.

"Oh, Gil, it's beautiful! Do we really get to stay here?"

Grissom smiled at Sara's joy filled reaction, "Yes! Come on, let's put our stuff away and then take a walk down to the ocean."

They hurried to unpack the car and carry their stuff inside. The inside of the house was as picturesque as the outside had been. They walked into a large open room, filled with comfortable unexpectedly modern furniture. There was a living room area, with a large sofa and love seat and a dining area with a casual round table. The kitchen was set to the back of the room, with an open breakfast bar separating it from the main living area. A stairway leading up to the second floor was located midway down the back wall, with a small half bath located under the turn of the stair. All of this was noticed in a passing glance, allowing their eyes to focus on the large picture window facing the ocean.

They quickly walked across the room to the door leading from the dining area. There was a wrap around porch off the back of the house. Walking out, they were greeted by the unending blue of the ocean, the crashing of the waves on the rocky beach, and the fragrant sting of the ocean mist. Sara looked up into Grissom's eyes.

"So this is where your parents found the blue for your eyes! No wonder I find it so easy to drown in their depths."

Grissom smiled with his eyes, losing himself in the warmth of her rich brown, "Don't worry, if your go under, I'll save you. I've been training in mouth to mouth resuscitation."

Sara grinned, "Help me, I'm sinking!"

Grissom laughed as he captured her lips with his, breathing life into her scarred heart.

* * *

Okay, I know the mouth to mouth comment was one of Grissom's off the wall comments to Sara in Season 6 or 7, but I thought I'd give it a little context!

Hopefully, another update or two this weekend.

Thank you for reading and reviewing.


	22. Chapter 22

Author's Note:

Dear Readers,

My apologies for the long delays in updating:

My state (southwest US) has a shortfall of ½ billion dollars in their education budget statewide. While my school district is only 4 million short, it means that we have had to make a lot of sacrifices. There has been a hiring freeze and substitutes are primarily available for emergencies.

One of my colleagues (and friends) has been on medical leave since the end of the first month of school. They haven't found a diagnoses yet (where is Dr. House when you need him?), so they needed to find a permanent replacement for her in the classroom. Unfortunately, due to the hiring freeze, they have to find a replacement from within the school.

To make a long story shorter, I have been called upon to take over her 5th grade class for the rest of the school year. I'm not sure yet how I will fulfill my already fulltime responsibilities for the technology of the school (around 1000 students and staff), while teaching in the classroom. Not to mention the fact that I haven't been in the classroom for several years and all my teaching materials are boxed and stored…. I found out about this the day before Thanksgiving Break and my first class is on December 1st!

Once I am back in the swing of things, perhaps I will find time to update. Otherwise, I will have to wait until Winter break to finish the story. Sadly, I am only a few chapters from the end and I have already started the next sequel…

Thank you for your patience and for your previous encouragement and reviews.

Kailynray


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